LO, praise
of the prowess of people-kings
of
spear-armed Danes, in days long sped,
we have
heard, and what honor the athelings won!
Oft Scyld
the Scefing from squadroned foes,
from many
a tribe, the mead-bench tore,
awing the
earls. Since erst he lay
friendless,
a foundling, fate repaid him:
for he
waxed under welkin, in wealth he throve,
till
before him the folk, both far and near,
who house
by the whale-path, heard his mandate,
gave him
gifts: a good king he!
To him an
heir was afterward born,
a son in
his halls, whom heaven sent
to favor
the folk, feeling their woe
that erst
they had lacked an earl for leader
so long a
while; the Lord endowed him,
the
Wielder of Wonder, with world's renown.
Famed
was this Beowulf: far flew the boast of him,
son of
Scyld, in the Scandian lands.
So becomes
it a youth to quit him well
with his
father's friends, by fee and gift,
that to
aid him, aged, in after days,
come
warriors willing, should war draw nigh,
liegemen
loyal: by lauded deeds
shall an
earl have honor in every clan.

Forth he
fared at the fated moment,
sturdy
Scyld to the shelter of God.
Then they
bore him over to ocean's billow,
loving
clansmen, as late he charged them,
while
wielded words the winsome Scyld,
the leader
beloved who long had ruled....
In the
roadstead rocked a ring-dight vessel,
ice-flecked,
outbound, atheling's barge:
there laid
they down their darling lord
on the
breast of the boat, the breaker-of-rings,
by the
mast the mighty one. Many a treasure
fetched
from far was freighted with him.
No ship
have I known so nobly dight
with
weapons of war and weeds of battle,
with
breastplate and blade: on his bosom lay
a heaped
hoard that hence should go
far o'er
the flood with him floating away.
No less
these loaded the lordly gifts,
thanes'
huge treasure, than those had done
who in
former time forth had sent him
sole on
the seas, a suckling child.
High o'er
his head they hoist the standard,
a
gold-wove banner; let billows take him,
gave him
to ocean. Grave were their spirits,
mournful
their mood. No man is able
to say in
sooth, no son of the halls,
no hero
'neath heaven, who harbored that freight!

I

Now
Beowulf bode in the burg of the Scyldings,
leader
beloved, and long he ruled
in fame
with all folk, since his father had gone
away from
the world, till awoke an heir,
haughty
Healfdene, who held through life,
sage and
sturdy, the Scyldings glad.
Then, one
after one, there woke to him,
to the
chieftain of clansmen, children four:
Heorogar,
then Hrothgar, then Halga brave;
and I
heard that was 's queen,
the
Heathoscylfing's helpmate dear.
To
Hrothgar was given such glory of war,
such honor
of combat, that all his kin
obeyed him
gladly till great grew his band
of
youthful comrades. It came in his mind
to bid his
henchmen a hall uprear,
ia master
mead-house, mightier far
than ever
was seen by the sons of earth,
and within
it, then, to old and young
he would
all allot that the Lord had sent him,
save only
the land and the lives of his men.
Wide, I
heard, was the work commanded,
for many a
tribe this mid-earth round,
to fashion
the folkstead. It fell, as he ordered,
in rapid
achievement that ready it stood there,
of halls
the noblest: Heorot he named it
whose
message had might in many a land.
Not
reckless of promise, the rings he dealt,
treasure
at banquet: there towered the hall,
high,
gabled wide, the hot surge waiting
of furious
flame. Nor far was that day
when
father and son-in-law stood in feudfor
warfare and hatred that woke again.
With envy
and anger an evil spirit
endured
the dole in his dark abode,
that he
heard each day the din of revel
high in
the hall: there harps rang out,
clear song
of the singer. He sang who knew
tales of
the early time of man,
how the
Almighty made the earth,
fairest
fields enfolded by water,
set,
triumphant, sun and moon
for a
light to lighten the land-dwellers,
and
braided bright the breast of earth
with limbs
and leaves, made life for all
of mortal
beings that breathe and move.
So lived
the clansmen in cheer and revel
a winsome
life, till one began
to fashion
evils, that field of hell.
Grendel
this monster grim was called,
march-riever
mighty, in moorland living,
in fen and
fastness; fief of the giants
the
hapless wight a while had kept
since the
Creator his exile doomed.
On kin of
Cain was the killing avenged
by sovran
God for slaughtered Abel.
Ill fared
his feud, and far was he driven,
for the
slaughter's sake, from sight of men.
Of Cain
awoke all that woful breed,
Etins
and elves and evil-spirits,
as well as
the giants that warred with God
weary
while: but their wage was paid them!

II

WENT he
forth to find at fall of night
that
haughty house, and heed wherever
the
Ring-Danes, outrevelled, to rest had gone.
Found
within it the atheling band
asleep
after feasting and fearless of sorrow,
of human
hardship. Unhallowed wight,
grim and
greedy, he grasped betimes,
wrathful,
reckless, from resting-places,
thirty of
the thanes, and thence he rushed
fain of
his fell spoil, faring homeward,
laden with
slaughter, his lair to seek.
Then at
the dawning, as day was breaking,
the might
of Grendel to men was known;
then after
wassail was wail uplifted,
loud moan
in the morn. The mighty chief,
atheling
excellent, unblithe sat,
labored in
woe for the loss of his thanes,
when once
had been traced the trail of the fiend,
spirit
accurst: too cruel that sorrow,
too long,
too loathsome. Not late the respite;
with night
returning, anew began
ruthless
murder; he recked no whit,
firm in
his guilt, of the feud and crime.
They were
easy to find who elsewhere sought
in room
remote their rest at night,
bed in the
bowers, when that bale was shown,
was seen
in sooth, with surest token,
the
hall-thane's hate. Such held themselves
far and
fast who the fiend outran!
Thus ruled
unrighteous and raged his fill
one
against all; until empty stood
that
lordly building, and long it bode so.
Twelve
years' tide the trouble he bore,
sovran of
Scyldings, sorrows in plenty,
boundless
cares. There came unhidden
tidings
true to the tribes of men,
in
sorrowful songs, how ceaselessly Grendel
harassed
Hrothgar, what hate he bore him,
what
murder and massacre, many a year,
feud
unfading, refused consent
to deal
with any of Daneland's earls,
make pact
of peace, or compound for gold:
still less
did the wise men ween to get
great fee
for the feud from his fiendish hands.
But the
evil one ambushed old and young
death-shadow
dark, and dogged them still,
lured, or
lurked in the livelong night
of misty
moorlands: men may say not
where the
haunts of these Hell-Runes be.
Such
heaping of horrors the hater of men,
lonely
roamer, wrought unceasing,
harassings
heavy. O'er Heorot he lorded,
gold-bright
hall, in gloomy nights;
and ne'er
could the prince approach his throne,
'twas
judgment of God, or have joy in his hall.
Sore was
the sorrow to Scyldings'-friend,
heart-rending
misery. Many nobles
sat
assembled, and searched out counsel
how it
were best for bold-hearted men
against
harassing terror to try their hand.
Whiles
they vowed in their heathen fanes
altar-offerings,
asked with words
that the
slayer-of-souls would succor give them
for the
pain of their people. Their practice this,
their
heathen hope; 'twas Hell they thought of
in mood of
their mind. Almighty they knew not,
Doomsman
of Deeds and dreadful Lord,
nor
Heaven's-Helmet heeded they ever,
Wielder-of-Wonder.
Woe for that man
who in
harm and hatred hales his soul
to fiery
embraces; nor favor nor change
awaits he
ever. But well for him
that after
death-day may draw to his Lord,
and
friendship find in the Father's arms!

III

THUS
seethed unceasing the son of Healfdene
with the
woe of these days; not wisest men
assuaged
his sorrow; too sore the anguish,
loathly
and long, that lay on his folk,
most
baneful of burdens and bales of the night.

This heard
in his home Hygelac's thane,
great
among Geats, of Grendel's doings.
He was the
mightiest man of valor
in that
same day of this our life,
stalwart
and stately. A stout wave-walker
he bade
make ready. Yon battle-king, said he,
far o'er
the swan-road he fain would seek,
the noble
monarch who needed men!
The
prince's journey by prudent folk
was little
blamed, though they loved him dear;
they
whetted the hero, and hailed good omens.
And now
the bold one from bands of Geats
comrades
chose, the keenest of warriors
e'er he
could find; with fourteen men
the
sea-wood he sought, and, sailor proved,
led them
on to the land's confines.
Time had
now flown; afloat was the ship,
boat under
bluff. On board they climbed,
warriors
ready; waves were churning
sea with
sand; the sailors bore
on the
breast of the bark their bright array,
their mail
and weapons: the men pushed off,
on its
willing way, the well-braced craft.
Then moved
o'er the waters by might of the wind
that bark
like a bird with breast of foam,
till in
season due, on the second day,
the curved
prow such course had run
that
sailors now could see the land,
sea-cliffs
shining, steep high hills,
headlands
broad. Their haven was found,
their
journey ended. Up then quickly
the
Weders' clansmen climbed ashore,
anchored
their sea-wood, with armor clashing
and gear
of battle: God they thanked
or passing
in peace o'er the paths of the sea.
Now saw
from the cliff a Scylding clansman,
a warden
that watched the water-side,
how they
bore o'er the gangway glittering shields,
war-gear
in readiness; wonder seized him
to know
what manner of men they were.
Straight
to the strand his steed he rode,
Hrothgar's
henchman; with hand of might
he shook
his spear, and spake in parley.
"Who
are ye, then, ye armed men,
mailed
folk, that yon mighty vessel
have urged
thus over the ocean ways,
here o'er
the waters? A warden I,
sentinel
set o'er the sea-march here,
lest any
foe to the folk of Danes
with
harrying fleet should harm the land.
No aliens
ever at ease thus bore them,
linden-wielders:
yet word-of-leave
clearly ye
lack from clansmen here,
my folk's
agreement. A greater ne'er saw I
of
warriors in world than is one of you,
yon hero
in harness! No henchman he
worthied
by weapons, if witness his features,
his
peerless presence! I pray you, though, tell
your folk
and home, lest hence ye fare
suspect to
wander your way as spies
in Danish
land. Now, dwellers afar,
ocean-travellers,
take from me
simple
advice: the sooner the better
I hear of
the country whence ye came."

IV

To him the
stateliest spake in answer;
the
warriors' leader his word-hoard unlocked:
"We
are by kin of the clan of Geats,
and
Hygelac's own hearth-fellows we.
To folk
afar was my father known,
noble
atheling, Ecgtheow named.
Full of
winters, he fared away
aged from
earth; he is honored still
through
width of the world by wise men all.
To thy
lord and liege in loyal mood
we hasten
hither, to Healfdene's son,
people-protector:
be pleased to advise us!
To that
mighty-one come we on mickle errand,
to the
lord of the Danes; nor deem I right
that aught
be hidden. We hear thou knowest
if sooth
it is the saying of men,
that amid
the Scyldings a scathing monster,
dark
ill-doer, in dusky nights
shows
terrific his rage unmatched,
hatred and
murder. To Hrothgar I
in
greatness of soul would succor bring,
so the
Wise-and-Brave may worst his foes,
if ever
the end of ills is fated,
of cruel
contest, if cure shall follow,
and the
boiling care-waves cooler grow;
else ever
afterward anguish-days
he shall
suffer in sorrow while stands in place
high on
its hill that house unpeered!"
Astride
his steed, the strand-ward answered,
clansman
unquailing: "The keen-souled thane
must be
skilled to sever and sunder duly
words and
works, if he well intends.
I gather,
this band is graciously bent
to the
Scyldings' master. March, then, bearing
weapons
and weeds the way I show you.
I will bid
my men your boat meanwhile
to guard
for fear lest foemen come,
your
new-tarred ship by shore of ocean
faithfully
watching till once again
it waft
o'er the waters those well-loved thanes,
winding-neck'd
wood, to Weders' bounds,
heroes
such as the hest of fate
shall
succor and save from the shock of war."
They bent
them to march, the boat lay still,
fettered
by cable and fast at anchor,
broad-bosomed
ship. Then shone the boars
over the
cheek-guard; chased with gold,
keen and
gleaming, guard it kept
o'er the
man of war, as marched along
heroes in
haste, till the hall they saw,
broad of
gable and bright with gold:
that was
the fairest, 'mid folk of earth,
of houses
'neath heaven, where Hrothgar lived,
and the
gleam of it lightened o'er lands afar.
The sturdy
shieldsman showed that bright
burg-of-the-boldest;
bade them go
straightway
thither; his steed then turned,
hardy
hero, and hailed them thus:
"Tis
time that I fare from you. Father Almighty
in grace
and mercy guard you well,
safe in
your seekings. Seaward I go,
'gainst
hostile warriors hold my watch."

V

STONE-BRIGHT
the street: it showed the way
to the
crowd of clansmen. Corselets glistened
hand-forged,
hard; on their harness bright
the steel
ring sang, as they strode along
in mail of
battle, and marched to the hall.
There,
weary of ocean, the wall along
they set
their bucklers, their broad shields, down,
and bowed
them to bench: the breastplates clanged,
war-gear
of men; their weapons stacked,
spears of
the seafarers stood together,
gray-tipped
ash: that iron band
was
worthily weaponed! A warrior proud
asked of
the heroes their home and kin.
"Whence,
now, bear ye burnished shields,
harness
gray and helmets grim,
spears in
multitude? Messenger, I,
Hrothgar's
herald! Heroes so many
ne'er met
I as strangers of mood so strong.
'Tis plain
that for prowess, not plunged into exile,
for
high-hearted valor, Hrothgar ye seek!"
Him the
sturdy-in-war bespake with words,
proud earl
of the Weders answer made,
hardy
'neath helmet: "Hygelac's, we,
fellows at
board; I am Beowulf named.
I am
seeking to say to the son of Healfdene
this
mission of mine, to thy master-lord,
the
doughty prince, if he deign at all
grace that
we greet him, the good one, now."
Wulfgar
spake, the Wendles' chieftain,
whose
might of mind to many was known,
his
courage and counsel: "The king of Danes,
the
Scyldings' friend, I fain will tell,
the
Breaker-of-Rings, as the boon thou askest,
the famed
prince, of thy faring hither,
and,
swiftly after, such answer bring
as the
doughty monarch may deign to give."
Hied then
in haste to where Hrothgar sat
white-haired
and old, his earls about him,
till the
stout thane stood at the shoulder there
of the
Danish king: good courtier he!
Wulfgar
spake to his winsome lord:
"Hither
have fared to thee far-come men
o'er the
paths of ocean, people of Geatland;
and the
stateliest there by his sturdy band
is Beowulf
named. This boon they seek,
that they,
my master, may with thee
have
speech at will: nor spurn their prayer
to give
them hearing, gracious Hrothgar!
In weeds
of the warrior worthy they,
methinks,
of our liking; their leader most surely,
a hero
that hither his henchmen has led."

VI

HROTHGAR
answered, helmet of Scyldings:
"I
knew him of yore in his youthful days;
his aged
father was Ecgtheow named,
to whom,
at home, gave Hrethel the Geat
his only
daughter. Their offspring bold
fares
hither to seek the steadfast friend.
And
seamen, too, have said me this,
who
carried my gifts to the Geatish court,
thither
for thanks, he has thirty men's
heft of
grasp in the gripe of his hand,
the
bold-in-battle. Blessed God
out of his
mercy this man hath sent
to Danes
of the West, as I ween indeed,
against
horror of Grendel. I hope to give
the good
youth gold for his gallant thought.
Be thou in
haste, and bid them hither,
clan of
kinsmen, to come before me;
and add
this word, they are welcome guests
to folk of
the Danes."
[To the
door of the hall
Wulfgar
went] and the word declared:
"To
you this message my master sends,
East-Danes'
king, that your kin he knows,
hardy
heroes, and hails you all
welcome
hither o'er waves of the sea!
Ye may
wend your way in war-attire,
and under
helmets Hrothgar greet;
but let
here the battle-shields bide your parley,
and wooden
war-shafts wait its end."
Uprose the
mighty one, ringed with his men,
brave band
of thanes: some bode without,
battle-gear
guarding, as bade the chief.
Then hied
that troop where the herald led them,
under
Heorot's roof: [the hero strode,]
hardy
'neath helm, till the hearth he neared.
Beowulf
spake, his breastplate gleamed,
war-net
woven by wit of the smith:
"Thou
Hrothgar, hail! Hygelac's I,
kinsman
and follower. Fame a plenty
have I
gained in youth! These Grendel-deeds
I heard in
my home-land heralded clear.
Seafarers
say how stands this hall,
of
buildings best, for your band of thanes
empty and
idle, when evening sun
in the
harbor of heaven is hidden away.
So my
vassals advised me well,
brave and
wise, the best of men,
O sovran
Hrothgar, to seek thee here,
for my
nerve and my might they knew full well.
Themselves
had seen me from slaughter come
blood-flecked
from foes, where five I bound,
and that
wild brood worsted. I' the waves I slew
nicors
by night, in need and peril
avenging
the Weders, whose woe they sought,
crushing
the grim ones. Grendel now,
monster
cruel, be mine to quell
in single
battle! So, from thee,
thou
sovran of the Shining-Danes,
Scyldings'-bulwark,
a boon I seek,
and,
Friend-of-the-folk, refuse it not,
O
Warriors'-shield, now I've wandered far,
that I
alone with my liegemen here,
this hardy
band, may Heorot purge!
More I
hear, that the monster dire,
in his
wanton mood, of weapons recks not;
hence
shall I scorn so Hygelac stay,
king of my
kindred, kind to me!
brand or
buckler to bear in the fight,
gold-colored
targe: but with gripe alone
must I
front the fiend and fight for life,
foe
against foe. Then faith be his
in the
doom of the Lord whom death shall take.
Fain, I
ween, if the fight he win,
in this
hall of gold my Geatish band
will he
fearless eat, as oft before,
my noblest
thanes. Nor need'st thou then
to hide my
head; for his shall I be,
dyed in
gore, if death must take me;
and my
blood-covered body he'll bear as prey,
ruthless
devour it, the roamer-lonely,
with my
life-blood redden his lair in the fen:
no further
for me need'st food prepare!
To Hygelac
send, if Hild should take me,
best of
war-weeds, warding my breast,
armor
excellent, heirloom of Hrethel
and work
of Wayland. Fares Wyrd as
she must."

VII

HROTHGAR
spake, the Scyldings'-helmet:
"For
fight defensive, Friend my Beowulf,
to succor
and save, thou hast sought us here.
Thy
father's combat a feud enkindled
when
Heatholaf with hand he slew
among the
Wylfings; his Weder kin
for horror
of fighting feared to hold him.
Fleeing,
he sought our South-Dane folk,
over surge
of ocean the Honor-Scyldings,
when first
I was ruling the folk of Danes,
wielded,
youthful, this widespread realm,
this
hoard-hold of heroes. Heorogar was dead,
my elder
brother, had breathed his last,
Healfdene's
bairn: he was better than I!
Straightway
the feud with fee I settled,
to the
Wylfings sent, o'er watery ridges,
treasures
olden: oaths he swore me.
Sore is my
soul to say to any
of the
race of man what ruth for me
in Heorot
Grendel with hate hath wrought,
what
sudden harryings. Hall-folk fail me,
my
warriors wane; for Wyrd hath swept them
into
Grendel's grasp. But God is able
this
deadly foe from his deeds to turn!
Boasted
full oft, as my beer they drank,
earls o'er
the ale-cup, armed men,
that they
would bide in the beer-hall here,
Grendel's
attack with terror of blades.
Then was
this mead-house at morning tide
dyed with
gore, when the daylight broke,
all the
boards of the benches blood-besprinkled,
gory the
hall: I had heroes the less,
doughty
dear-ones that death had reft.
But
sit to the banquet, unbind thy words,
hardy
hero, as heart shall prompt thee."

Gathered
together, the Geatish men
in the
banquet-hall on bench assigned,
sturdy-spirited,
sat them down,
hardy-hearted.
A henchman attended,
carried
the carven cup in hand,
served the
clear mead. Oft minstrels sang
blithe in
Heorot. Heroes revelled,
no dearth
of warriors, Weder and Dane.

VIII

UNFERTH
spake, the son of Ecglaf,
who sat at
the feet of the Scyldings' lord,
unbound
the battle-runes. Beowulf's quest,
sturdy
seafarer's, sorely galled him;
ever he
envied that other men
should
more achieve in middle-earth
of fame
under heaven than he himself.
"Art
thou that Beowulf, Breca's rival,
who
emulous swam on the open sea,
when for
pride the pair of you proved the floods,
and
wantonly dared in waters deep
to risk
your lives? No living man,
or lief or
loath, from your labor dire
could you
dissuade, from swimming the main.
Ocean-tides
with your arms ye covered,
with
strenuous hands the sea-streets measured,
swam o'er
the waters. Winter's storm
rolled the
rough waves. In realm of sea
a sennight
strove ye. In swimming he topped thee,
had more
of main! Him at morning-tide
billows
bore to the Battling Reamas,
whence he
hied to his home so dear
beloved of
his liegemen, to land of Brondings,
fastness
fair, where his folk he ruled,
town and
treasure. In triumph o'er thee
Beanstan's
bairn his boast achieved.
So ween I
for thee a worse adventure
though
in buffet of battle thou brave hast been,
in
struggle grim, if Grendel's approach
thou darst
await through the watch of night!"

Beowulf
spake, bairn of Ecgtheow:
"What
a deal hast uttered, dear my Unferth,
drunken
with beer, of Breca now,
told of
his triumph! Truth I claim it,
that I had
more of might in the sea
than any
man else, more ocean-endurance.
We twain
had talked, in time of youth,
and made
our boast, we were merely boys,
striplings
still, to stake our lives
far at
sea: and so we performed it.
Naked
swords, as we swam along,
we held in
hand, with hope to guard us
against
the whales. Not a whit from me
could he
float afar o'er the flood of waves,
haste o'er
the billows; nor him I abandoned.
Together
we twain on the tides abode
five
nights full till the flood divided us,
churning
waves and chillest weather,
darkling
night, and the northern wind
ruthless
rushed on us: rough was the surge.
Now the
wrath of the sea-fish rose apace;
yet me
'gainst the monsters my mailed coat,
hard and
hand-linked, help afforded,
battle-sark
braided my breast to ward,
garnished
with gold. There grasped me firm
and haled
me to bottom the hated foe,
with
grimmest gripe. 'Twas granted me, though,
to pierce
the monster with point of sword,
with blade
of battle: huge beast of the sea
was
whelmed by the hurly through hand of mine.

IX

ME thus
often the evil monsters
thronging
threatened. With thrust of my sword,
the
darling, I dealt them due return!
Nowise had
they bliss from their booty then
to devour
their victim, vengeful creatures,
seated to
banquet at bottom of sea;
but at
break of day, by my brand sore hurt,
on the
edge of ocean up they lay,
put to
sleep by the sword. And since, by them
on the
fathomless sea-ways sailor-folk
are never
molested. Light from east,
came
bright God's beacon; the billows sank,
so that I
saw the sea-cliffs high,
windy
walls. For Wyrd oft saveth
earl
undoomed if he doughty be!
And so it
came that I killed with my sword
nine of
the nicors. Of night-fought battles
ne'er
heard I a harder 'neath heaven's dome,
nor adrift
on the deep a more desolate man!
Yet I came
unharmed from that hostile clutch,
though
spent with swimming. The sea upbore me,
flood of
the tide, on Finnish land,
the
welling waters. No wise of thee
have I
heard men tell such terror of falchions,
bitter
battle. Breca ne'er yet,
not one of
you pair, in the play of war
such
daring deed has done at all
with
bloody brand, I boast not of it!
though
thou wast the bane of thy brethren dear,
thy
closest kin, whence curse of hell
awaits
thee, well as thy wit may serve!
For I say
in sooth, thou son of Ecglaf,
never had
Grendel these grim deeds wrought,
monster
dire, on thy master dear,
in Heorot
such havoc, if heart of thine
were as
battle-bold as thy boast is loud!
But he has
found no feud will happen;
from
sword-clash dread of your Danish clan
he vaunts
him safe, from the Victor-Scyldings.
He forces
pledges, favors none
of the
land of Danes, but lustily murders,
fights and
feasts, nor feud he dreads
from
Spear-Dane men. But speedily now
shall I
prove him the prowess and pride of the Geats,
shall bid
him battle. Blithe to mead
go he that
listeth, when light of dawn
this
morrow morning o'er men of earth,
ether-robed
sun from the south shall beam!"
Joyous
then was the Jewel-giver,
hoar-haired,
war-brave; help awaited
the
Bright-Danes' prince, from Beowulf hearing,
folk's
good shepherd, such firm resolve.
Then was
laughter of liegemen loud resounding
with
winsome words. Came Wealhtheow forth,
queen of
Hrothgar, heedful of courtesy,
gold-decked,
greeting the guests in hall;
and the
high-born lady handed the cup
first to
the East-Danes' heir and warden,
bade him
be blithe at the beer-carouse,
the land's
beloved one. Lustily took he
banquet
and beaker, battle-famed king.

Through
the hall then went the Helmings' Lady,
to younger
and older everywhere
carried
the cup, till come the moment
when the
ring-graced queen, the royal-hearted,
to Beowulf
bore the beaker of mead.
She
greeted the Geats' lord, God she thanked,
in
wisdom's words, that her will was granted,
that at
last on a hero her hope could lean
for
comfort in terrors. The cup he took,
hardy-in-war,
from Wealhtheow's hand,
and answer
uttered the eager-for-combat.
Beowulf
spake, bairn of Ecgtheow:
"This
was my thought, when my thanes and I
bent to
the ocean and entered our boat,
that I
would work the will of your people
fully, or
fighting fall in death,
in fiend's
gripe fast. I am firm to do
an earl's
brave deed, or end the days
of this
life of mine in the mead-hall here."
Well these
words to the woman seemed,
Beowulf's
battle-boast. Bright with gold
the
stately dame by her spouse sat down.
Again, as
erst, began in hall
warriors'
wassail and words of power,
the
proud-band's revel, till presently
the son of
Healfdene hastened to seek
rest for
the night; he knew there waited
fight for
the fiend in that festal hall,
when the
sheen of the sun they saw no more,
and dusk
of night sank darkling nigh,
and
shadowy shapes came striding on,
wan under
welkin. The warriors rose.
Man to
man, he made harangue,
Hrothgar
to Beowulf, bade him hail,
let him
wield the wine hall: a word he added:
"Never
to any man erst I trusted,
since I
could heave up hand and shield,
this noble
Dane-Hall, till now to thee.
Have now
and hold this house unpeered;
remember
thy glory; thy might declare;
watch for
the foe! No wish shall fail thee
if thou
bidest the battle with bold-won life."

X

THEN
Hrothgar went with his hero-train,
defence-of-Scyldings,
forth from hall;
fain would
the war-lord Wealhtheow seek,
couch of
his queen. The King-of-Glory
against
this Grendel a guard had set,
so heroes
heard, a hall-defender,
who warded
the monarch and watched for the monster.
In truth,
the Geats' prince gladly trusted
his
mettle, his might, the mercy of God!
Cast off
then his corselet of iron,
helmet
from head; to his henchman gave,
choicest
of weapons, the well-chased sword,
bidding
him guard the gear of battle.
Spake then
his Vaunt the valiant man,
Beowulf
Geat, ere the bed be sought:
"Of
force in fight no feebler I count me,
in grim
war-deeds, than Grendel deems him.
Not with
the sword, then, to sleep of death
his life
will I give, though it lie in my power.
No skill
is his to strike against me,
my shield
to hew though he hardy be,
bold in
battle; we both, this night,
shall
spurn the sword, if he seek me here,
unweaponed,
for war. Let wisest God,
sacred
Lord, on which side soever
doom
decree as he deemeth right."
Reclined
then the chieftain, and cheek-pillows held
the head
of the earl, while all about him
seamen
hardy on hall-beds sank.
None of
them thought that thence their steps
to the
folk and fastness that fostered them,
to the
land they loved, would lead them back!
Full well
they wist that on warriors many
battle-death
seized, in the banquet-hall,
of Danish
clan. But comfort and help,
war-weal
weaving, to Weder folk
the Master
gave, that, by might of one,
over their
enemy all prevailed,
by single
strength. In sooth 'tis told
that
highest God o'er human kind
hath
wielded ever! Thro' wan night striding,
came the
walker-in-shadow. Warriors slept
whose hest
was to guard the gabled hall,
all save
one. 'Twas widely known
that
against God's will the ghostly ravager
him
could not hurl to haunts of darkness;
wakeful,
ready, with warrior's wrath,
bold he
bided the battle's issue.

XI

THEN from
the moorland, by misty crags,
with God's
wrath laden, Grendel came.
The
monster was minded of mankind now
sundry to
seize in the stately house.
Under
welkin he walked, till the wine-palace there,
gold-hall
of men, he gladly discerned,
flashing
with fretwork. Not first time, this,
that he
the home of Hrothgar sought,
yet ne'er
in his life-day, late or early,
such hardy
heroes, such hall-thanes, found!
To the
house the warrior walked apace,
parted
from peace; the portal opended,
though
with forged bolts fast, when his fists had
struck it,
and
baleful he burst in his blatant rage,
the
house's mouth. All hastily, then,
o'er
fair-paved floor the fiend trod on,
ireful he
strode; there streamed from his eyes
fearful
flashes, like flame to see.

He spied
in hall the hero-band,
kin and
clansmen clustered asleep,
hardy
liegemen. Then laughed his heart;
for the
monster was minded, ere morn should dawn,
savage, to
sever the soul of each,
life from
body, since lusty banquet
waited his
will! But Wyrd forbade him
to seize
any more of men on earth
after that
evening. Eagerly watched
Hygelac's
kinsman his cursed foe,
how he
would fare in fell attack.
Not that
the monster was minded to pause!
Straightway
he seized a sleeping warrior
for the
first, and tore him fiercely asunder,
the
bone-frame bit, drank blood in streams,
swallowed
him piecemeal: swiftly thus
the
lifeless corse was clear devoured,
e'en feet
and hands. Then farther he hied;
for the
hardy hero with hand he grasped,
felt for
the foe with fiendish claw,
for the
hero reclining, who clutched it boldly,
prompt to
answer, propped on his arm.
Soon then
saw that shepherd-of-evils
that never
he met in this middle-world,
in the
ways of earth, another wight
with
heavier hand-gripe; at heart he feared,
sorrowed
in soul, none the sooner escaped!
Fain would
he flee, his fastness seek,
the den of
devils: no doings now
such as
oft he had done in days of old!
Then
bethought him the hardy Hygelac-thane
of his
boast at evening: up he bounded,
grasped
firm his foe, whose fingers cracked.
The fiend
made off, but the earl close followed.
The
monster meant if he might at all
to fling
himself free, and far away
fly to the
fens, knew his fingers' power
in the
gripe of the grim one. Gruesome march
to Heorot
this monster of harm had made!
Din filled
the room; the Danes were bereft,
castle-dwellers
and clansmen all,
earls, of
their ale. Angry were both
those
savage hall-guards: the house resounded.
Wonder it
was the wine-hall firm
in the
strain of their struggle stood, to earth
the fair
house fell not; too fast it was
within and
without by its iron bands
craftily
clamped; though there crashed from sill
many a
mead-bench men have told me
gay with
gold, where the grim foes wrestled.
So well
had weened the wisest Scyldings
that not
ever at all might any man
that
bone-decked, brave house break asunder,
crush by
craft, unless clasp of fire
in smoke
engulfed it. Again uprose
din
redoubled. Danes of the North
with fear
and frenzy were filled, each one,
who from
the wall that wailing heard,
God's foe
sounding his grisly song,
cry of the
conquered, clamorous pain
from
captive of hell. Too closely held him
he who of
men in might was strongest
in that
same day of this our life.

XII

NOT in any
wise would the earls'-defence
suffer
that slaughterous stranger to live,
useless
deeming his days and years
to men on
earth. Now many an earl
of Beowulf
brandished blade ancestral,
fain the
life of their lord to shield,
their
praised prince, if power were theirs;
never they
knew, as they neared the foe,
hardy-hearted
heroes of war,
aiming
their swords on every side
the
accursed to kill, no keenest blade,
no farest
of falchions fashioned on earth,
could harm
or hurt that hideous fiend!
He was
safe, by his spells, from sword of battle,
from edge
of iron. Yet his end and parting
on that
same day of this our life
woful
should be, and his wandering soul
far off
flit to the fiends' domain.
Soon he
found, who in former days,
harmful in
heart and hated of God,
on many a
man such murder wrought,
that the
frame of his body failed him now.
For him
the keen-souled kinsman of Hygelac
held in
hand; hateful alive
was each
to other. The outlaw dire
took
mortal hurt; a mighty wound
showed on
his shoulder, and sinews cracked,
and the
bone-frame burst. To Beowulf now
the glory
was given, and Grendel thence
death-sick
his den in the dark moor sought,
noisome
abode: he knew too well
that here
was the last of life, an end
of his
days on earth. To all the Danes
by that
bloody battle the boon had come.
From
ravage had rescued the roving stranger
Hrothgar's
hall; the hardy and wise one
had purged
it anew. His night-work pleased him,
his deed
and its honor. To Eastern Danes
had the
valiant Geat his vaunt made good,
all their
sorrow and ills assuaged,
their bale
of battle borne so long,
and all
the dole they erst endured
pain
a-plenty. 'Twas proof of this,
when the
hardy-in-fight a hand laid down,
arm and
shoulder, all, indeed,
of
Grendel's gripe, 'neath the gabled roof.

XIII

MANY at
morning, as men have told me,
warriors
gathered the gift-hall round,
folk-leaders
faring from far and near,
o'er
wide-stretched ways, the wonder to view,
trace of
the traitor. Not troublous seemed
the
enemy's end to any man
who saw by
the gait of the graceless foe
how the
weary-hearted, away from thence,
baffled in
battle and banned, his steps
death-marked
dragged to the devils' mere.
Bloody the
billows were boiling there,
turbid the
tide of tumbling waves
horribly
seething, with sword-blood hot,
by that
doomed one dyed, who in den of the moor
laid
forlorn his life adown,
his
heathen soul, and hell received it.
Home then
rode the hoary clansmen
from that
merry journey, and many a youth,
on horses
white, the hardy warriors,
back from
the mere. Then Beowulf's glory
eager they
echoed, and all averred
that from
sea to sea, or south or north,
there was
no other in earth's domain,
under
vault of heaven, more valiant found,
of
warriors none more worthy to rule!
(On their
lord beloved they laid no slight,
gracious
Hrothgar: a good king he!)
From time
to time, the tried-in-battle
their gray
steeds set to gallop amain,
and ran a
race when the road seemed fair.
From time
to time, a thane of the king,
who had
made many vaunts, and was mindful of verses,
stored
with sagas and songs of old,
bound word
to word in well-knit rime,
welded his
lay; this warrior soon
of
Beowulf's quest right cleverly sang,
and
artfully added an excellent tale,
in
well-ranged words, of the warlike deeds
he had
heard in saga of Sigemund.
Strange
the story: he said it all,
the
Waelsing's wanderings wide, his struggles,
which
never were told to tribes of men,
the feuds
and the frauds, save to Fitela only,
when of
these doings he deigned to speak,
uncle to
nephew; as ever the twain
stood side
by side in stress of war,
and
multitude of the monster kind
they had
felled with their swords. Of Sigemund grew,
when he
passed from life, no little praise;
for the
doughty-in-combat a dragon killed
that
herded the hoard: under hoary rock
the
atheling dared the deed alone
fearful
quest, nor was Fitela there.
Yet so it
befell, his falchion pierced
that
wondrous worm, on the wall it struck,
best
blade; the dragon died in its blood.
Thus had
the dread-one by daring achieved
over the
ring-hoard to rule at will,
himself to
pleasure; a sea-boat he loaded,
and bore
on its bosom the beaming gold,
son of
Waels; the worm was consumed.
He had of
all heroes the highest renown
among
races of men, this refuge-of-warriors,
for deeds
of daring that decked his name
since the
hand and heart of Heremod
grew slack
in battle. He, swiftly banished
to mingle
with monsters at mercy of foes,
to death
was betrayed; for torrents of sorrow
had lamed
him too long; a load of care
to earls
and athelings all he proved.
Oft
indeed, in earlier days,
for the
warrior's wayfaring wise men mourned,
who had
hoped of him help from harm and bale,
and had
thought their sovran's son would thrive,
follow his
father, his folk protect,
the hoard
and the stronghold, heroes' land,
home of
Scyldings. But here, thanes said,
the
kinsman of Hygelac kinder seemed
to all:
the other was urged to crime!
And afresh
to the race, the fallow roads
by swift
steeds measured! The morning sun
was
climbing higher. Clansmen hastened
to the
high-built hall, those hardy-minded,
the wonder
to witness. Warden of treasure,
crowned
with glory, the king himself,
with
stately band from the bride-bower strode;
and with
him the queen and her crowd of maidens
measured
the path to the mead-house fair.

XIV

HROTHGAR
spake, to the hall he went,
stood by
the steps, the steep roof saw,
garnished
with gold, and Grendel's hand:
"For
the sight I see to the Sovran Ruler
be speedy
thanks! A throng of sorrows
I have
borne from Grendel; but God still works
wonder on
wonder, the Warden-of-Glory.
It was but
now that I never more
for woes
that weighed on me waited help
long as I
lived, when, laved in blood,
stood
sword-gore-stained this stateliest house,
widespread
woe for wise men all,
who had no
hope to hinder ever
foes
infernal and fiendish sprites
from havoc
in hall. This hero now,
by the
Wielder's might, a work has done
that not
all of us erst could ever do
by wile
and wisdom. Lo, well can she say
whoso of
women this warrior bore
among sons
of men, if still she liveth,
that the
God of the ages was good to her
in the
birth of her bairn. Now, Beowulf, thee,
of heroes
best, I shall heartily love
as mine
own, my son; preserve thou ever
this
kinship new: thou shalt never lack
wealth of
the world that I wield as mine!
Full oft
for less have I largess showered,
my
precious hoard, on a punier man,
less stout
in struggle. Thyself hast now
fulfilled
such deeds, that thy fame shall endure
through
all the ages. As ever he did,
well may
the Wielder reward thee still!"
Beowulf
spake, bairn of Ecgtheow:
"This
work of war most willingly
we have
fought, this fight, and fearlessly dared
force of
the foe. Fain, too, were I
hadst thou
but seen himself, what time
the fiend
in his trappings tottered to fall!
Swiftly, I
thought, in strongest gripe
on his bed
of death to bind him down,
that he in
the hent of this hand of mine
should
breathe his last: but he broke away.
Him I
might not the Maker willed not
hinder
from flight, and firm enough hold
the
life-destroyer: too sturdy was he,
the
ruthless, in running! For rescue, however,
he left
behind him his hand in pledge,
arm and
shoulder; nor aught of help
could the
cursed one thus procure at all.
None the
longer liveth he, loathsome fiend,
sunk in
his sins, but sorrow holds him
tightly
grasped in gripe of anguish,
in baleful
bonds, where bide he must,
evil
outlaw, such awful doom
as the
Mighty Maker shall mete him out."

More
silent seemed the son of Ecglaf
in
boastful speech of his battle-deeds,
since
athelings all, through the earl's great prowess,
beheld
that hand, on the high roof gazing,
foeman's
fingers, the forepart of each
of the
sturdy nails to steel was likest,
heathen's
"hand-spear," hostile warrior's
claw
uncanny. 'Twas clear, they said,
that him
no blade of the brave could touch,
how keen
soever, or cut away
that
battle-hand bloody from baneful foe.

XV

THERE was
hurry and hest in Heorot now
for hands
to bedeck it, and dense was the throng
of men and
women the wine-hall to cleanse,
the
guest-room to garnish. Gold-gay shone the hangings
that were
wove on the wall, and wonders many
to delight
each mortal that looks upon them.
Though
braced within by iron bands,
that
building bright was broken sorely;
rent were
its hinges; the roof alone
held safe
and sound, when, seared with crime,
the
fiendish foe his flight essayed,
of life
despairing. No light thing that,
the flight
for safety, essay it who will!
Forced of
fate, he shall find his way
to the
refuge ready for race of man,
for
soul-possessors, and sons of earth;
and there
his body on bed of death
shall rest
after revel.
Arrived
was the hour
when to
hall proceeded Healfdene's son:
the king
himself would sit to banquet.
Ne'er
heard I of host in haughtier throng
more
graciously gathered round giver-of-rings!
Bowed then
to bench those bearers-of-glory,
fain of
the feasting. Featly received
many a
mead-cup the mighty-in-spirit,
kinsmen
who sat in the sumptuous hall,
Hrothgar
and Hrothulf. Heorot now
was filled
with friends; the folk of Scyldings
ne'er yet
had tried the traitor's deed.
To Beowulf
gave the bairn of Healfdene
a
gold-wove banner, guerdon of triumph,
broidered
battle-flag, breastplate and helmet;
and a
splendid sword was seen of many
borne to
the brave one. Beowulf took
cup
in hall: for such costly gifts
he
suffered no shame in that soldier throng.
For I
heard of few heroes, in heartier mood,
with four
such gifts, so fashioned with gold,
on the
ale-bench honoring others thus!
O'er the
roof of the helmet high, a ridge,
wound with
wires, kept ward o'er the head,
lest the
relict-of-files should fierce invade,
sharp in
the strife, when that shielded hero
should go
to grapple against his foes.
Then the
earls'-defence on the floor
bade lead
coursers
eight, with carven head-gear,
adown the
hall: one horse was decked
with a
saddle all shining and set in jewels;
'twas the
battle-seat of the best of kings,
when to
play of swords the son of Healfdene
was fain
to fare. Ne'er failed his valor
in the
crush of combat when corpses fell.
To Beowulf
over them both then gave
the
refuge-of-Ingwines right and power,
o'er
war-steeds and weapons: wished him joy of them.
Manfully
thus the mighty prince,
hoard-guard
for heroes, that hard fight repaid
with
steeds and treasures contemned by none
who is
willing to say the sooth aright.

XVI

AND the
lord of earls, to each that came
with
Beowulf over the briny ways,
an
heirloom there at the ale-bench gave,
precious
gift; and the price bade pay
in gold
for him whom Grendel erst
murdered,
and fain of them more had killed,
had not
wisest God their Wyrd averted,
and the
man's brave mood. The Maker then
ruled
human kind, as here and now.
Therefore
is insight always best,
and
forethought of mind. How much awaits him
of lief
and of loath, who long time here,
through
days of warfare this world endures!

Then song
and music mingled sounds
in the
presence of Healfdene's head-of-armies
and
harping was heard with the hero-lay
as
Hrothgar's singer the hall-joy woke
along the
mead-seats, making his song
of that
sudden raid on the sons of Finn.
Healfdene's
hero, Hnaef the Scylding,
was fated
to fall in the Frisian slaughter.
Hildeburh
needed not hold in value
her
enemies' honor! Innocent both
were the
loved ones she lost at the linden-play,
bairn and
brother, they bowed to fate,
stricken
by spears; 'twas a sorrowful woman!
None
doubted why the daughter of Hoc
bewailed
her doom when dawning came,
and under
the sky she saw them lying,
kinsmen
murdered, where most she had kenned
of the
sweets of the world! By war were swept, too,
Finn's own
liegemen, and few were left;
in the
parleying-place he could ply no longer
weapon,
nor war could he wage on Hengest,
and rescue
his remnant by right of arms
from the
prince's thane. A pact he offered:
another
dwelling the Danes should have,
hall and
high-seat, and half the power
should
fall to them in Frisian land;
and at the
fee-gifts, Folcwald's son
day by day
the Danes should honor,
the folk
of Hengest favor with rings,
even as
truly, with treasure and jewels,
with
fretted gold, as his Frisian kin
he meant
to honor in ale-hall there.
Pact of
peace they plighted further
on both
sides firmly. Finn to Hengest
with oath,
upon honor, openly promised
that woful
remnant, with wise-men's aid,
nobly to
govern, so none of the guests
by word or
work should warp the treaty,
or with
malice of mind bemoan themselves
as forced
to follow their fee-giver's slayer,
lordless
men, as their lot ordained.
Should
Frisian, moreover, with foeman's taunt,
that
murderous hatred to mind recall,
then edge
of the sword must seal his doom.

Oaths were
given, and ancient gold
heaped
from hoard. The hardy Scylding,
battle-thane
best, on his balefire lay.
All on the
pyre were plain to see
the gory
sark, the gilded swine-crest,
boar of
hard iron, and athelings many
slain by
the sword: at the slaughter they fell.
It was
Hildeburh's hest, at Hnaef's own pyre
the bairn
of her body on brands to lay,
his bones
to burn, on the balefire placed,
at his
uncle's side. In sorrowful dirges
bewept
them the woman: great wailing ascended.
Then wound
up to welkin the wildest of death-fires,
roared
o'er the hillock: heads all were melted,
gashes
burst, and blood gushed out
from bites
of the body. Balefire devoured,
greediest
spirit, those spared not by war
out of
either folk: their flower was gone.

XVII

THEN
hastened those heroes their home to see,
friendless,
to find the Frisian land,
houses and
high burg. Hengest still
through
the death-dyed winter dwelt with Finn,
holding
pact, yet of home he minded,
though
powerless his ring-decked prow to drive
over the
waters, now waves rolled fierce
lashed by
the winds, or winter locked them
in icy
fetters. Then fared another
year to
men's dwellings, as yet they do,
the
sunbright skies, that their season ever
duly
await. Far off winter was driven;
fair lay
earth's breast; and fain was the rover,
the guest,
to depart, though more gladly he pondered
on
wreaking his vengeance than roaming the deep,
and how to
hasten the hot encounter
where sons
of the Frisians were sure to be.
So he
escaped not the common doom,
when Hun
with "Lafing," the light-of-battle,
best of
blades, his bosom pierced:
its edge
was famed with the Frisian earls.
On
fierce-heart Finn there fell likewise,
on himself
at home, the horrid sword-death;
for
Guthlaf and Oslaf of grim attack
had
sorrowing told, from sea-ways landed,
mourning
their woes. Finn's wavering spirit
bode not
in breast. The burg was reddened
with blood
of foemen, and Finn was slain,
king amid
clansmen; the queen was taken.
To their
ship the Scylding warriors bore
all the
chattels the chieftain owned,
whatever
they found in Finn's domain
of gems
and jewels. The gentle wife
o'er paths
of the deep to the Danes they bore,
led to her
land.
The lay
was finished,
the
gleeman's song. Then glad rose the revel;
bench-joy
brightened. Bearers draw
from their
"wonder-vats" wine. Comes Wealhtheow forth,
under
gold-crown goes where the good pair sit,
uncle and
nephew, true each to the other one,
kindred in
amity. Unferth the spokesman
at the
Scylding lord's feet sat: men had faith in his spirit,
his
keenness of courage, though kinsmen had found him
unsure at
the sword-play. The Scylding queen spoke:
"Quaff
of this cup, my king and lord,
breaker of
rings, and blithe be thou,
gold-friend
of men; to the Geats here speak
such words
of mildness as man should use.
Be glad
with thy Geats; of those gifts be mindful,
or near or
far, which now thou hast.

Men say to
me, as son thou wishest
yon hero
to hold. Thy Heorot purged,
jewel-hall
brightest, enjoy while thou canst,
with many
a largess; and leave to thy kin
folk and
realm when forth thou goest
to greet
thy doom. For gracious I deem
my
Hrothulf, willing to hold and rule
nobly our
youths, if thou yield up first,
prince of
Scyldings, thy part in the world.
I ween
with good he will well requite
offspring
of ours, when all he minds
that for
him we did in his helpless days
of gift
and grace to gain him honor!"
Then she
turned to the seat where her sons wereplaced,
Hrethric
and Hrothmund, with heroes' bairns,
young men
together: the Geat, too, sat there,
Beowulf
brave, the brothers between.

XVIII

A CUP she
gave him, with kindly greeting
and
winsome words. Of wounden gold,
she
offered, to honor him, arm-jewels twain,
corselet
and rings, and of collars the noblest
that ever
I knew the earth around.
Ne'er
heard I so mighty, 'neath heaven's dome,
a
hoard-gem of heroes, since Hama bore
to his
bright-built burg the Brisings' necklace,
jewel and
gem casket. Jealousy fled he,
Eormenric's
hate: chose help eternal.
Hygelac
Geat, grandson of Swerting,
on the
last of his raids this ring bore with him,
under his
banner the booty defending,
the
war-spoil warding; but Wyrd o'erwhelmed him
what time,
in his daring, dangers he sought,
feud with
Frisians. Fairest of gems
he bore
with him over the beaker-of-waves,
sovran
strong: under shield he died.
Fell the
corpse of the king into keeping of Franks,
gear of
the breast, and that gorgeous ring;
weaker
warriors won the spoil,
after
gripe of battle, from Geatland's lord,
and held
the death-field.
Din rose
in hall.
Wealhtheow
spake amid warriors, and said:
"This
jewel enjoy in thy jocund youth,
Beowulf
lov'd, these battle-weeds wear,
a royal
treasure, and richly thrive!
Preserve
thy strength, and these striplings here
counsel in
kindness: requital be mine.
Hast done
such deeds, that for days to come
thou art
famed among folk both far and near,
so wide as
washeth the wave of Ocean
his windy
walls. Through the ways of life
prosper, O
prince! I pray for thee
rich
possessions. To son of mine
be helpful
in deed and uphold his joys!
Here every
earl to the other is true,
mild of
mood, to the master loyal!
Thanes are
friendly, the throng obedient,
liegemen
are revelling: list and obey!"
Went then
to her place. That was proudest of feasts;
flowed
wine for the warriors. Wyrd they knew not,
destiny
dire, and the doom to be seen
by many an
earl when eve should come,
and
Hrothgar homeward hasten away,
royal, to
rest. The room was guarded
by an army
of earls, as erst was done.
They bared
the bench-boards; abroad they spread
beds and
bolsters. One beer-carouser
in danger
of doom lay down in the hall.

At their
heads they set their shields of war,
bucklers
bright; on the bench were there
over each
atheling, easy to see,
the high
battle-helmet, the haughty spear,
the
corselet of rings. 'Twas their custom so
ever to be
for battle prepared,
at home,
or harrying, which it were,
even as
oft as evil threatened
their
sovran king. They were clansmen good.

XIX

THEN sank
they to sleep. With sorrow one bought
his rest
of the evening, as ofttime had happened
when
Grendel guarded that golden hall,
evil
wrought, till his end drew nigh,
slaughter
for sins. 'Twas seen and told
how an
avenger survived the fiend,
as was
learned afar. The livelong time
after that
grim fight, Grendel's mother,
monster of
women, mourned her woe.
She was
doomed to dwell in the dreary waters,
cold
sea-courses, since Cain cut down
with edge
of the sword his only brother,
his
father's offspring: outlawed he fled,
marked
with murder, from men's delights
warded the
wilds. There woke from him
such
fate-sent ghosts as Grendel, who,
war-wolf
horrid, at Heorot found
a warrior
watching and waiting the fray,
with whom
the grisly one grappled amain.
But the
man remembered his mighty power,
the
glorious gift that God had sent him,
in his
Maker's mercy put his trust
for
comfort and help: so he conquered the foe,
felled the
fiend, who fled abject,
reft of
joy, to the realms of death,
mankind's
foe. And his mother now,
gloomy and
grim, would go that quest
of sorrow,
the death of her son to avenge.
To Heorot
came she, where helmeted Danes
slept in
the hall. Too soon came back
old ills
of the earls, when in she burst,
the mother
of Grendel. Less grim, though, that terror,
e'en as
terror of woman in war is less,
might of
maid, than of men in arms
when,
hammer-forged, the falchion hard,
sword
gore-stained, through swine of the helm,
crested,
with keen blade carves amain.
Then was
in hall the hard-edge drawn,
the swords
on the settles, and shields a-many
firm held
in hand: nor helmet minded
nor
harness of mail, whom that horror seized.
Haste was
hers; she would hie afar
and save
her life when the liegemen saw her.
Yet a
single atheling up she seized
fast and
firm, as she fled to the moor.
He was for
Hrothgar of heroes the dearest,
of trusty
vassals betwixt the seas,
whom she
killed on his couch, a clansman famous,
in battle
brave. Nor was Beowulf there;
another
house had been held apart,
after
giving of gold, for the Geat renowned.
Uproar
filled Heorot; the hand all had viewed,
blood-flecked,
she bore with her; bale was returned,
dole in
the dwellings: 'twas dire exchange
where Dane
and Geat were doomed to give
the lives
of loved ones. Long-tried king,
the hoary
hero, at heart was sad
when he
knew his noble no more lived,
and dead
indeed was his dearest thane.
To his
bower was Beowulf brought in haste,
dauntless
victor. As daylight broke,
along with
his earls the atheling lord,
with his
clansmen, came where the king abode
waiting to
see if the Wielder-of-All
would turn
this tale of trouble and woe.
Strode
o'er floor the famed-in-strife,
with his
hand-companions, the hall resounded,
wishing to
greet the wise old king,
Ingwines'
lord; he asked if the night
had passed
in peace to the prince's mind.

XX

HROTHGAR
spake, helmet-of-Scyldings:
"Ask
not of pleasure! Pain is renewed
to Danish
folk. Dead is Aeschere,
of
Yrmenlaf the elder brother,
my sage
adviser and stay in council,
shoulder-comrade
in stress of fight
when
warriors clashed and we warded our heads,
hewed the
helm-boars; hero famed
should be
every earl as Aeschere was!
But here
in Heorot a hand hath slain him
of
wandering death-sprite. I wot not whither,
proud of
the prey, her path she took,
fain of
her fill. The feud she avenged
that
yesternight, unyieldingly,
Grendel in
grimmest grasp thou killedst,
seeing how
long these liegemen mine
he ruined
and ravaged. Reft of life,
in arms he
fell. Now another comes,
keen and
cruel, her kin to avenge,
faring far
in feud of blood:
so that
many a thane shall think, who e'er
sorrows in
soul for that sharer of rings,
this is
hardest of heart-bales. The hand lies low
that once
was willing each wish to please.
Land-dwellers
here and liegemen mine,
who house
by those parts, I have heard relate
that such
a pair they have sometimes seen,
march-stalkers
mighty the moorland haunting,
wandering
spirits: one of them seemed,
so far as
my folk could fairly judge,
of
womankind; and one, accursed,
in man's
guise trod the misery-track
of exile,
though huger than human bulk.
Grendel in
days long gone they named him,
folk of
the land; his father they knew not,
nor any
brood that was born to him
of
treacherous spirits. Untrod is their home;
by
wolf-cliffs haunt they and windy headlands,
fenways
fearful, where flows the stream
from
mountains gliding to gloom of the rocks,
underground
flood. Not far is it hence
in measure
of miles that the mere expands,
and o'er
it the frost-bound forest hanging,
sturdily
rooted, shadows the wave.
By night
is a wonder weird to see,
fire on
the waters. So wise lived none
of the
sons of men, to search those depths!
Nay,
though the heath-rover, harried by dogs,
the
horn-proud hart, this holt should seek,
long
distance driven, his dear life first
on the
brink he yields ere he brave the plunge
to hide
his head: 'tis no happy place!
Thence the
welter of waters washes up
wan to
welkin when winds bestir
evil
storms, and air grows dusk,
and the
heavens weep. Now is help once more
with thee
alone! The land thou knowst not,
place of
fear, where thou findest out
that
sin-flecked being. Seek if thou dare!
I will
reward thee, for waging this fight,
with
ancient treasure, as erst I did,
with
winding gold, if thou winnest back."

XXI

BEOWULF
spake, bairn of Ecgtheow:
"Sorrow
not, sage! It beseems us better
friends to
avenge than fruitlessly mourn them.
Each of us
all must his end abide
in the
ways of the world; so win who may
glory ere
death! When his days are told,
that is
the warrior's worthiest doom.
Rise, O
realm-warder! Ride we anon,
and mark
the trail of the mother of Grendel.
No harbor
shall hide her heed my promise!
enfolding
of field or forested mountain
or floor
of the flood, let her flee where she will!
But thou
this day endure in patience,
as I ween
thou wilt, thy woes each one."
Leaped up
the graybeard: God he thanked,
mighty
Lord, for the man's brave words.
For
Hrothgar soon a horse was saddled
wave-maned
steed. The sovran wise
stately
rode on; his shield-armed men
followed
in force. The footprints led
along the
woodland, widely seen,
a path
o'er the plain, where she passed, and trod
the murky
moor; of men-at-arms
she bore
the bravest and best one, dead,
him who
with Hrothgar the homestead ruled.
On then
went the atheling-born
o'er
stone-cliffs steep and strait defiles,
narrow
passes and unknown ways,
headlands
sheer, and the haunts of the Nicors.
Foremost
he fared, a few at his side
of the
wiser men, the ways to scan,
till he
found in a flash the forested hill
hanging
over the hoary rock,
a woful
wood: the waves below
were dyed
in blood. The Danish men
had sorrow
of soul, and for Scyldings all,
for many a
hero, 'twas hard to bear,
ill for
earls, when Aeschere's head
they found
by the flood on the foreland there.
Waves were
welling, the warriors saw,
hot with
blood; but the horn sang oft
battle-song
bold. The band sat down,
and
watched on the water worm-like things,
sea-dragons
strange that sounded the deep,
and nicors
that lay on the ledge of the ness
such as
oft essay at hour of morn
on the
road-of-sails their ruthless quest,
and
sea-snakes and monsters. These started away,
swollen
and savage that song to hear,
that
war-horn's blast. The warden of Geats,
with bolt
from bow, then balked of life,
of
wave-work, one monster, amid its heart
went the
keen war-shaft; in water it seemed
less
doughty in swimming whom death had seized.
Swift on
the billows, with boar-spears well
hooked and
barbed, it was hard beset,
done to
death and dragged on the headland,
wave-roamer
wondrous. Warriors viewed
the grisly
guest.
Then girt
him Beowulf
in martial
mail, nor mourned for his life.
His
breastplate broad and bright of hues,
woven by
hand, should the waters try;
well could
it ward the warrior's body
that
battle should break on his breast in vain
nor harm
his heart by the hand of a foe.
And the
helmet white that his head protected
was
destined to dare the deeps of the flood,
through
wave-whirl win: 'twas wound with chains,
decked
with gold, as in days of yore
the
weapon-smith worked it wondrously,
with
swine-forms set it, that swords nowise,
brandished
in battle, could bite that helm.
Nor was
that the meanest of mighty helps
which
Hrothgar's orator offered at need:
"Hrunting"
they named the hilted sword,
of
old-time heirlooms easily first;
iron was
its edge, all etched with poison,
with
battle-blood hardened, nor blenched it at fight
in hero's
hand who held it ever,
on paths
of peril prepared to go
to
folkstead of foes. Not first time this
it was
destined to do a daring task.
For he
bore not in mind, the bairn of Ecglaf
sturdy and
strong, that speech he had made,
drunk with
wine, now this weapon he lent
to a
stouter swordsman. Himself, though, durst not
under
welter of waters wager his life
as loyal
liegeman. So lost he his glory,
honor of
earls. With the other not so,
who girded
him now for the grim encounter.

XXI

BEOWULF
spake, bairn of Ecgtheow:
"Have
mind, thou honored offspring of Healfdene
gold-friend
of men, now I go on this quest,
sovran
wise, what once was said:
if in thy
cause it came that I
should
lose my life, thou wouldst loyal bide
to me,
though fallen, in father's place!
Be
guardian, thou, to this group of my thanes,
my
warrior-friends, if War should seize me;
and the
goodly gifts thou gavest me,
Hrothgar
beloved, to Hygelac send!
Geatland's
king may ken by the gold,
Hrethel's
son see, when he stares at the treasure,
that I got
me a friend for goodness famed,
and joyed
while I could in my jewel-bestower.
And let
Unferth wield this wondrous sword,
earl
far-honored, this heirloom precious,
hard of
edge: with Hrunting I
seek doom
of glory, or Death shall take me."

After
these words the Weder-Geat lord
boldly
hastened, biding never
answer at
all: the ocean floods
closed
o'er the hero. Long while of the day
fled ere
he felt the floor of the sea.

Soon found
the fiend who the flood-domain
sword-hungry
held these hundred winters,
greedy and
grim, that some guest from above,
some man,
was raiding her monster-realm.
She
grasped out for him with grisly claws,
and the
warrior seized; yet scathed she not
his body
hale; the breastplate hindered,
as she
strove to shatter the sark of war,
the linked
harness, with loathsome hand.
Then bore
this brine-wolf, when bottom she touched,
the lord
of rings to the lair she haunted
whiles
vainly he strove, though his valor held,
weapon to
wield against wondrous monsters
that sore
beset him; sea-beasts many
tried with
fierce tusks to tear his mail,
and
swarmed on the stranger. But soon he marked
he was now
in some hall, he knew not which,
where
water never could work him harm,
nor
through the roof could reach him ever
fangs of
the flood. Firelight he saw,
beams of a
blaze that brightly shone.
Then the
warrior was ware of that wolf-of-the-deep,
mere-wife
monstrous. For mighty stroke
he swung
his blade, and the blow withheld not.
Then sang
on her head that seemly blade
its
war-song wild. But the warrior found
the
light-of-battle was loath to bite,
to harm
the heart: its hard edge failed
the noble
at need, yet had known of old
strife
hand to hand, and had helmets cloven,
doomed
men's fighting-gear. First time, this,
for the
gleaming blade that its glory fell.
Firm still
stood, nor failed in valor,
heedful of
high deeds, Hygelac's kinsman;
flung away
fretted sword, featly jewelled,
the angry
earl; on earth it lay
steel-edged
and stiff. His strength he trusted,
hand-gripe
of might. So man shall do
whenever
in war he weens to earn him
lasting
fame, nor fears for his life!
Seized
then by shoulder, shrank not from combat,
the
Geatish war-prince Grendel's mother.
Flung then
the fierce one, filled with wrath,
his deadly
foe, that she fell to ground.
Swift on
her part she paid him back
with
grisly grasp, and grappled with him.
Spent with
struggle, stumbled the warrior,
fiercest
of fighting-men, fell adown.
On the
hall-guest she hurled herself, hent her short sword,
broad and
brown-edged, the bairn to avenge,
the
sole-born son. On his shoulder lay
braided
breast-mail, barring death,
withstanding
entrance of edge or blade.
Life would
have ended for Ecgtheow's son,
under wide
earth for that earl of Geats,
had his
armor of war not aided him,
battle-net
hard, and holy God
wielded
the victory, wisest Maker.
The Lord
of Heaven allowed his cause;
and easily
rose the earl erect.

XXIII

'MID the
battle-gear saw he a blade triumphant,
old-sword
of Eotens, with edge of proof,
warriors'
heirloom, weapon unmatched,
save
only 'twas more than other men
to
bandy-of-battle could bear at all
as the
giants had wrought it, ready and keen.
Seized
then its chain-hilt the Scyldings' chieftain,
bold and
battle-grim, brandished the sword,
reckless
of life, and so wrathfully smote
that it
gripped her neck and grasped her hard,
her
bone-rings breaking: the blade pierced through
that
fated-one's flesh: to floor she sank.
Bloody the
blade: he was blithe of his deed.
Then
blazed forth light. 'Twas bright within
as when
from the sky there shines unclouded
heaven's
candle. The hall he scanned.
By the
wall then went he; his weapon raised
high by
its hilts the Hygelac-thane,
angry and
eager. That edge was not useless
to the
warrior now. He wished with speed
Grendel to
guerdon for grim raids many,
for the
war he waged on Western-Danes
oftener
far than an only time,
when of
Hrothgar's hearth-companions
he slew in
slumber, in sleep devoured,
fifteen
men of the folk of Danes,
and as
many others outward bore,
his
horrible prey. Well paid for that
the
wrathful prince! For now prone he saw
Grendel
stretched there, spent with war,
spoiled of
life, so scathed had left him
Heorot's
battle. The body sprang far
when after
death it endured the blow,
sword-stroke
savage, that severed its head.
Soon,
then, saw the sage companions
who waited
with Hrothgar, watching the flood,
that the
tossing waters turbid grew,
blood-stained
the mere. Old men together,
hoary-haired,
of the hero spake;
the
warrior would not, they weened, again,
proud of
conquest, come to seek
their
mighty master. To many it seemed
the
wolf-of-the-waves had won his life.
The ninth
hour came. The noble Scyldings
left the
headland; homeward went
the
gold-friend of men. But the guests sat
on,
stared at
the surges, sick in heart,
and
wished, yet weened not, their winsome lord
again to
see.

Now that
sword began,
from blood
of the fight, in battle-droppings,
war-blade,
to wane: 'twas a wondrous thing
that all
of it melted as ice is wont
when
frosty fetters the Father loosens,
unwinds
the wave-bonds, wielding all
seasons
and times: the true God he!
Nor took
from that dwelling the duke of the Geats
save only
the head and that hilt withal
blazoned
with jewels: the blade had melted,
burned was
the bright sword, her blood was so hot,
so
poisoned the hell-sprite who perished within there.
Soon he
was swimming who safe saw in combat
downfall
of demons; up-dove through the flood.
The
clashing waters were cleansed now,
waste of
waves, where the wandering fiend
her
life-days left and this lapsing world.
Swam then
to strand the sailors'-refuge,
sturdy-in-spirit,
of sea-booty glad,
of burden
brave he bore with him.
Went then
to greet him, and God they thanked,
the
thane-band choice of their chieftain blithe,
that safe
and sound they could see him again.
Soon from
the hardy one helmet and armor
deftly
they doffed: now drowsed the mere,
water
'neath welkin, with war-blood stained.
Forth they
fared by the footpaths thence,
merry at
heart the highways measured,
well-known
roads. Courageous men
carried
the head from the cliff by the sea,
an arduous
task for all the band,
the firm
in fight, since four were needed
on the
shaft-of-slaughter strenuously
to bear to
the gold-hall Grendel's head.
So
presently to the palace there
foemen
fearless, fourteen Geats,
marching
came. Their master-of-clan
mighty
amid them the meadow-ways trod.
Strode
then within the sovran thane
fearless
in fight, of fame renowned,
hardy
hero, Hrothgar to greet.
And next
by the hair into hall was borne
Grendel's
head, where the henchmen were drinking,
an awe to
clan and queen alike,
a monster
of marvel: the men looked on.

XXIV

BEOWULF
spake, bairn of Ecgtheow:
"Lo,
now, this sea-booty, son of Healfdene,
Lord of
Scyldings, we've lustily brought thee,
sign of
glory; thou seest it here.
Not
lightly did I with my life escape!
In war
under water this work I essayed
with
endless effort; and even so
my
strength had been lost had the Lord not shielded me.
Not a whit
could I with Hrunting do
in work of
war, though the weapon is good;
yet a
sword the Sovran of Men vouchsafed me
to spy on
the wall there, in splendor hanging,
old,
gigantic, how oft He guides
the
friendless wight! and I fought with that brand,
felling in
fight, since fate was with me,
the
house's wardens. That war-sword then
all
burned, bright blade, when the blood gushed o'er it,
battle-sweat
hot; but the hilt I brought back
from my
foes. So avenged I their fiendish deeds
death-fall
of Danes, as was due and right.
And this
is my hest, that in Heorot now
safe thou
canst sleep with thy soldier band,
and every
thane of all thy folk
both old
and young; no evil fear,
Scyldings'
lord, from that side again,
aught ill
for thy earls, as erst thou must!"
Then the
golden hilt, for that gray-haired leader,
hoary
hero, in hand was laid,
giant-wrought,
old. So owned and enjoyed it
after
downfall of devils, the Danish lord,
wonder-smiths'
work, since the world was rid
of that
grim-souled fiend, the foe of God,
murder-marked,
and his mother as well.
Now it
passed into power of the people's king,
best of
all that the oceans bound
who have
scattered their gold o'er Scandia's isle.
Hrothgar
spake the hilt he viewed,
heirloom
old, where was etched the rise
of that
far-off fight when the floods o'erwhelmed,
raging
waves, the race of giants
(fearful
their fate!), a folk estranged
from God
Eternal: whence guerdon due
in that
waste of waters the Wielder paid them.
So on the
guard of shining gold
in runic
staves it was rightly said
for whom
the serpent-traced sword was wrought,
best of
blades, in bygone days,
and the
hilt well wound. The wise-one spake,
son of
Healfdene; silent were all:
"Lo,
so may he say who sooth and right
follows
'mid folk, of far times mindful,
a
land-warden old, that this earl belongs
to the
better breed! So, borne aloft,
thy fame
must fly, O friend my Beowulf,
far and
wide o'er folksteads many. Firmly thou
shalt all
maintain,
mighty
strength with mood of wisdom. Love of
mine will
I assure thee,
as, awhile
ago, I promised; thou shalt prove a stay
in future,
in far-off
years, to folk of thine,
to the
heroes a help. Was not Heremod thus
to
offspring of Ecgwela, Honor-Scyldings,
nor grew
for their grace, but for grisly slaughter,
for doom
of death to the Danishmen.

He slew,
wrath-swollen, his shoulder-comrades,
companions
at board! So he passed alone,
chieftain
haughty, from human cheer.
Though him
the Maker with might endowed,
delights
of power, and uplifted high
above all
men, yet blood-fierce his mind,
his
breast-hoard, grew, no bracelets gave he
to Danes
as was due; he endured all joyless
strain of
struggle and stress of woe,
long feud
with his folk. Here find thy lesson!
Of virtue
advise thee! This verse I have said for thee,
wise from
lapsed winters. Wondrous seems
how to
sons of men Almighty God
in the
strength of His spirit sendeth wisdom,
estate,
high station: He swayeth all things.
Whiles He
letteth right lustily fare
the heart
of the hero of high-born race,
in seat
ancestral assigns him bliss,
his folk's
sure fortress in fee to hold,
puts in
his power great parts of the earth,
empire so
ample, that end of it
this
wanter-of-wisdom weeneth none.
So he
waxes in wealth, nowise can harm him
illness or
age; no evil cares
shadow his
spirit; no sword-hate threatens
from ever
an enemy: all the world
wends at
his will, no worse he knoweth,
till all
within him obstinate pride
waxes and
wakes while the warden slumbers,
the
spirit's sentry; sleep is too fast
which
masters his might, and the murderer nears,
stealthily
shooting the shafts from his bow!

XXV

"UNDER
harness his heart then is hit indeed
by
sharpest shafts; and no shelter avails
from foul
behest of the hellish fiend.
Him seems
too little what long he possessed.
Greedy and
grim, no golden rings
he gives
for his pride; the promised future
forgets he
and spurns, with all God has sent him,
Wonder-Wielder,
of wealth and fame.
Yet in the
end it ever comes
that the
frame of the body fragile yields,
fated
falls; and there follows another
who
joyously the jewels divides,
the royal
riches, nor recks of his forebear.
Ban, then,
such baleful thoughts, Beowulf dearest,
best of
men, and the better part choose,
profit
eternal; and temper thy pride,
warrior
famous! The flower of thy might
lasts now
a while: but erelong it shall be
that
sickness or sword thy strength shall minish,
or fang of
fire, or flooding billow,
or bite of
blade, or brandished spear,
or odious
age; or the eyes' clear beam
wax dull
and darken: Death even thee
in haste
shall o'erwhelm, thou hero of war!
So the
Ring-Danes these half-years a hundred I ruled,
wielded
'neath welkin, and warded them bravely
from
mighty-ones many o'er middle-earth,
from spear
and sword, till it seemed for me
no foe
could be found under fold of the sky.
Lo, sudden
the shift! To me seated secure
came grief
for joy when Grendel began
to harry
my home, the hellish foe;
for those
ruthless raids, unresting I suffered
heart-sorrow
heavy. Heaven be thanked,
Lord
Eternal, for life extended
that I on
this head all hewn and bloody,
after long
evil, with eyes may gaze!
Go
to the bench now! Be glad at banquet,
warrior
worthy! A wealth of treasure
at dawn of
day, be dealt between us!"
Glad was
the Geats' lord, going betimes
to seek
his seat, as the Sage commanded.
Afresh, as
before, for the famed-in-battle,
for the
band of the hall, was a banquet dight
nobly
anew. The Night-Helm darkened
dusk o'er
the drinkers.
The
doughty ones rose:
for the
hoary-headed would hasten to rest,
aged
Scylding; and eager the Geat,
shield-fighter
sturdy, for sleeping yearned.
Him
wander-weary, warrior-guest
from far,
a hall-thane heralded forth,
who by
custom courtly cared for all
needs of a
thane as in those old days
warrior-wanderers
wont to have.
So
slumbered the stout-heart. Stately the hall
rose
gabled and gilt where the guest slept on
till a
raven black the rapture-of-heaven
blithe-heart
boded. Bright came flying
shine
after shadow. The swordsmen hastened,
athelings
all were eager homeward
forth to
fare; and far from thence
the
great-hearted guest would guide his keel.
Bade then
the hardy-one Hrunting be brought
to the son
of Ecglaf, the sword bade him take,
excellent
iron, and uttered his thanks for it,
quoth that
he counted it keen in battle,
"war-friend"
winsome: with words he slandered not
edge of
the blade: 'twas a big-hearted man!
Now eager
for parting and armed at point
warriors
waited, while went to his host
that
Darling of Danes. The doughty atheling
to
high-seat hastened and Hrothgar greeted.

XXVI

BEOWULF
spake, bairn of Ecgtheow:
"Lo,
we seafarers say our will,
far-come
men, that we fain would seek
Hygelac
now. We here have found
hosts to
our heart: thou hast harbored us well.
If ever on
earth I am able to win me
more of
thy love, O lord of men,
aught
anew, than I now have done,
for work
of war I am willing still!
If it come
to me ever across the seas
that
neighbor foemen annoy and fright thee,
as they
that hate thee erewhile have used,
thousands
then of thanes I shall bring,
heroes to
help thee. Of Hygelac I know,
ward of
his folk, that, though few his years,
the lord
of the Geats will give me aid
by word
and by work, that well I may serve thee,
wielding
the war-wood to win thy triumph
and
lending thee might when thou lackest men.
If thy
Hrethric should come to court of Geats,
a sovran's
son, he will surely there
find his
friends. A far-off land
each man
should visit who vaunts him brave."
Him then
answering, Hrothgar spake:
"These
words of thine the wisest God
sent to
thy soul! No sager counsel
from so
young in years e'er yet have I heard.
Thou art
strong of main and in mind art wary,
art wise
in words! I ween indeed
if ever it
hap that Hrethel's heir
by spear
be seized, by sword-grim battle,
by illness
or iron, thine elder and lord,
people's
leader, and life be thine,
no
seemlier man will the Sea-Geats find
at all to
choose for their chief and king,
for
hoard-guard of heroes, if hold thou wilt
thy
kinsman's kingdom! Thy keen mind pleases me
the longer
the better, Beowulf loved!

Thou hast
brought it about that both our peoples,
sons of
the Geat and Spear-Dane folk,
shall have
mutual peace, and from murderous strife,
such as
once they waged, from war refrain.
Long as I
rule this realm so wide,
let our
hoards be common, let heroes with gold
each other
greet o'er the gannet's-bath,
and the
ringed-prow bear o'er rolling waves
tokens of
love. I trow my landfolk
towards
friend and foe are firmly joined,
and honor
they keep in the olden way."
To him in
the hall, then, Healfdene's son
gave
treasures twelve, and the trust-of-earls
bade him
fare with the gifts to his folk beloved,
hale to
his home, and in haste return.
Then
kissed the king of kin renowned,
Scyldings'
chieftain, that choicest thane,
and fell
on his neck. Fast flowed the tears
of the
hoary-headed. Heavy with winters,
he had
chances twain, but he clung to this,
that each
should look on the other again,
and hear
him in hall. Was this hero so dear to him.
his
breast's wild billows he banned in vain;
safe in
his soul a secret longing,
locked in
his mind, for that loved man
burned in
his blood. Then Beowulf strode,
glad of
his gold-gifts, the grass-plot o'er,
warrior
blithe. The wave-roamer bode
riding at
anchor, its owner awaiting.
As they
hastened onward, Hrothgar's gift
they
lauded at length. 'Twas a lord unpeered,
every way
blameless, till age had broken
it
spareth no mortal his splendid might.

XXVII

CAME now
to ocean the ever-courageous
hardy
henchmen, their harness bearing,
woven
war-sarks. The warden marked,
trusty as
ever, the earl's return.
From the
height of the hill no hostile words
reached
the guests as he rode to greet them;
but
"Welcome!" he called to that Weder clan
as the
sheen-mailed spoilers to ship marched on.
Then on
the strand, with steeds and treasure
and armor
their roomy and ring-dight ship
was
heavily laden: high its mast
rose over
Hrothgar's hoarded gems.
A sword to
the boat-guard Beowulf gave,
mounted
with gold; on the mead-bench since
he was
better esteemed, that blade possessing,
heirloom
old. Their ocean-keel boarding,
they drove
through the deep, and Daneland left.
A
sea-cloth was set, a sail with ropes,
firm to
the mast; the flood-timbers moaned;
nor did
wind over billows that wave-swimmer blow
across
from her course. The craft sped on,
foam-necked
it floated forth o'er the waves,
keel
firm-bound over briny currents,
till they
got them sight of the Geatish cliffs,
home-known
headlands. High the boat,
stirred by
winds, on the strand updrove.
Helpful at
haven the harbor-guard stood,
who long
already for loved companions
by the
water had waited and watched afar.
He bound
to the beach the broad-bosomed ship
with
anchor-bands, lest ocean-billows
that
trusty timber should tear away.
Then
Beowulf bade them bear the treasure,
gold and
jewels; no journey far
was it
thence to go to the giver of rings,
Hygelac
Hrethling: at home he dwelt
by the
sea-wall close, himself and clan.
Haughty
that house, a hero the king,
high the
hall, and Hygd right young,
wise and
wary, though winters few
in those
fortress walls she had found a home,
Haereth's
daughter. Nor humble her ways,
nor
grudged she gifts to the Geatish men,
of
precious treasure. Not Thryth's pride showed she,
folk-queen
famed, or that fell deceit.
Was none
so daring that durst make bold
(save her
lord alone) of the liegemen dear
that lady
full in the face to look,
but forged
fetters he found his lot,
bonds of
death! And brief the respite;
soon as
they seized him, his sword-doom was spoken,
and the
burnished blade a baleful murder
proclaimed
and closed. No queenly way
for woman
to practise, though peerless she,
that the
weaver-of-peace from warrior dear
by wrath
and lying his life should reave!
But
Hemming's kinsman hindered this.
For over
their ale men also told
that of
these folk-horrors fewer she wrought,
onslaughts
of evil, after she went,
gold-decked
bride, to the brave young prince,
atheling
haughty, and Offa's hall
o'er the
fallow flood at her father's bidding
safely
sought, where since she prospered,
royal,
throned, rich in goods,
fain of
the fair life fate had sent her,
and leal
in love to the lord of warriors.
He, of all
heroes I heard of ever
from sea
to sea, of the sons of earth,
most
excellent seemed. Hence Offa was praised
for his
fighting and feeing by far-off men,
the
spear-bold warrior; wisely he ruled
over his
empire. Eomer woke to him,
help of
heroes, Hemming's kinsman,
Grandson
of Garmund, grim in war.

XXVIII

HASTENED
the hardy one, henchmen with him,
sandy
strand of the sea to tread
and
widespread ways. The world's great candle,
sun shone
from south. They strode along
with
sturdy steps to the spot they knew
where the
battle-king young, his burg within,
slayer of
Ongentheow, shared the rings,
shelter-of-heroes.
To Hygelac
Beowulf's
coming was quickly told,
that there
in the court the clansmen's refuge,
the
shield-companion sound and alive,
hale from
the hero-play homeward strode.
With haste
in the hall, by highest order,
room for
the rovers was readily made.
By his
sovran he sat, come safe from battle,
kinsman by
kinsman. His kindly lord
he first
had greeted in gracious form,
with manly
words. The mead dispensing,
came
through the high hall Haereth's daughter,
winsome to
warriors, wine-cup bore
to the
hands of the heroes. Hygelac then
his
comrade fairly with question plied
in the
lofty hall, sore longing to know
what
manner of sojourn the Sea-Geats made.
"What
came of thy quest, my kinsman Beowulf,
when thy
yearnings suddenly swept thee yonder
battle to
seek o'er the briny sea,
combat in
Heorot? Hrothgar couldst thou
aid at
all, the honored chief,
in his
wide-known woes? With waves of care
my sad
heart seethed; I sore mistrusted
my loved
one's venture: long I begged thee
by no
means to seek that slaughtering monster,
but suffer
the South-Danes to settle their feud
themselves
with Grendel. Now God be thanked
that safe
and sound I can see thee now!"
Beowulf
spake, the bairn of Ecgtheow:
"'Tis
known and unhidden, Hygelac Lord,
to many
men, that meeting of ours,
struggle
grim between Grendel and me,
which we
fought on the field where full too many
sorrows he
wrought for the Scylding-Victors,
evils
unending. These all I avenged.
No boast
can be from breed of Grendel,
any on
earth, for that uproar at dawn,
from the
longest-lived of the loathsome race
in fleshly
fold! But first I went
Hrothgar
to greet in the hall of gifts,
where
Healfdene's kinsman high-renowned,
soon as my
purpose was plain to him,
assigned
me a seat by his son and heir.
The
liegemen were lusty; my life-days never
such merry
men over mead in hall
have I
heard under heaven! The high-born queen,
people's
peace-bringer, passed through the hall,
cheered
the young clansmen, clasps of gold,
ere she
sought her seat, to sundry gave.
Oft to the
heroes Hrothgar's daughter,
to earls
in turn, the ale-cup tendered,
she whom I
heard these hall-companions
Freawaru
name, when fretted gold
she
proffered the warriors. Promised is she,
gold-decked
maid, to the glad son of Froda.
Sage this
seems to the Scylding's-friend,
kingdom's-keeper:
he counts it wise
the woman
to wed so and ward off feud,
store of
slaughter. But seldom ever
when men
are slain, does the murder-spear sink
but
briefest while, though the bride be fair!
"Nor
haply will like it the Heathobard lord,
and as
little each of his liegemen all,
when a
thane of the Danes, in that doughty throng,
goes with
the lady along their hall,
and on him
the old-time heirlooms glisten
hard and
ring-decked, Heathobard's treasure,
weapons
that once they wielded fair
until they
lost at the linden-play
liegeman
leal and their lives as well.
Then, over
the ale, on this heirloom gazing,
some
ash-wielder old who has all in mind
that
spear-death of men, he is stern of mood,
heavy at
heart, in the hero young
tests the
temper and tries the soul
and
war-hate wakens, with words like these:
Canst thou
not, comrade, ken that sword
which to
the fray thy father carried
in his
final feud, 'neath the fighting-mask,
dearest of
blades, when the Danish slew him
and
wielded the war-place on Withergild's fall,
after
havoc of heroes, those hardy Scyldings?
Now, the
son of a certain slaughtering Dane,
proud of
his treasure, paces this hall,
joys in
the killing, and carries the jewel
that
rightfully ought to be owned by thee!_
Thus he
urges and eggs him all the time
with
keenest words, till occasion offers
that
Freawaru's thane, for his father's deed,
after bite
of brand in his blood must slumber,
losing his
life; but that liegeman flies
living
away, for the land he kens.
And thus
be broken on both their sides
oaths of
the earls, when Ingeld's breast
wells with
war-hate, and wife-love now
after the
care-billows cooler grows.
"So
I hold not high the Heathobards' faith
due to the
Danes, or their during love
and pact
of peace. But I pass from that,
turning to
Grendel, O giver-of-treasure,
and saying
in full how the fight resulted,
hand-fray
of heroes. When heaven's jewel
had fled
o'er far fields, that fierce sprite came,
night-foe
savage, to seek us out
where safe
and sound we sentried the hall.
To
Hondscio then was that harassing deadly,
his fall
there was fated. He first was slain,
girded
warrior. Grendel on him
turned
murderous mouth, on our mighty kinsman,
and all of
the brave man's body devoured.
Yet none
the earlier, empty-handed,
would the
bloody-toothed murderer, mindful of bale,
outward go
from the gold-decked hall:
but me he
attacked in his terror of might,
with
greedy hand grasped me. A glove hung by him
wide and
wondrous, wound with bands;
and in
artful wise it all was wrought,
by
devilish craft, of dragon-skins.
Me
therein, an innocent man,
the
fiendish foe was fain to thrust
with many
another. He might not so,
when I all
angrily upright stood.
'Twere
long to relate how that land-destroyer
I paid in
kind for his cruel deeds;
yet there,
my prince, this people of thine
got fame
by my fighting. He fled away,
and a
little space his life preserved;
but there
staid behind him his stronger hand
left in
Heorot; heartsick thence
on the
floor of the ocean that outcast fell.
Me for
this struggle the Scyldings'-friend
paid in
plenty with plates of gold,
with many
a treasure, when morn had come
and we all
at the banquet-board sat down.
Then was
song and glee. The gray-haired Scylding,
much
tested, told of the times of yore.
Whiles the
hero his harp bestirred,
wood-of-delight;
now lays he chanted
of sooth
and sadness, or said aright
legends of
wonder, the wide-hearted king;
or for
years of his youth he would yearn at times,
for
strength of old struggles, now stricken with age,
hoary
hero: his heart surged full
when, wise
with winters, he wailed their flight.
Thus in
the hall the whole of that day
at ease we
feasted, till fell o'er earth
another
night. Anon full ready
in greed
of vengeance, Grendel's mother
set forth
all doleful. Dead was her son
through
war-hate of Weders; now, woman monstrous
with fury
fell a foeman she slew,
avenged
her offspring. From Aeschere old,
loyal
councillor, life was gone;
nor might
they e'en, when morning broke,
those
Danish people, their death-done comrade
burn with
brands, on balefire lay
the man
they mourned. Under mountain stream
she had
carried the corpse with cruel hands.
For
Hrothgar that was the heaviest sorrow
of all
that had laden the lord of his folk.
The leader
then, by thy life, besought me
(sad was
his soul) in the sea-waves' coil
to play
the hero and hazard my being
for glory
of prowess: my guerdon he pledged.
I then in
the waters 'tis widely known
that
sea-floor-guardian savage found.
Hand-to-hand
there a while we struggled;
billows
welled blood; in the briny hall
her head I
hewed with a hardy blade
from
Grendel's mother, and gained my life,
though not
without danger. My doom was not yet.
Then the
haven-of-heroes, Healfdene's son,
gave me in
guerdon great gifts of price.

XXXI

"So
held this king to the customs old,
that I
wanted for nought in the wage I gained,
the meed
of my might; he made me gifts,
Healfdene's
heir, for my own disposal.
Now to
thee, my prince, I proffer them all,
gladly
give them. Thy grace alone
can find
me favor. Few indeed
have I of
kinsmen, save, Hygelac, thee!"
Then he
bade them bear him the boar-head standard,
the
battle-helm high, and breastplate gray,
the
splendid sword; then spake in form:
"Me
this war-gear the wise old prince,
Hrothgar,
gave, and his hest he added,
that its
story be straightway said to thee.
A while it
was held by Heorogar king,
for long
time lord of the land of Scyldings;
yet not to
his son the sovran left it,
to daring
Heoroweard, dear as he was to him,
his
harness of battle. Well hold thou it all!"
And I
heard that soon passed o'er the path of this treasure,
all
apple-fallow, four good steeds,
each like
the others, arms and horses
he gave to
the king. So should kinsmen be,
not weave
one another the net of wiles,
or with
deep-hid treachery death contrive
for
neighbor and comrade. His nephew was ever
by hardy
Hygelac held full dear,
and each
kept watch o'er the other's weal.
I heard,
too, the necklace to Hygd he presented,
wonder-wrought
treasure, which Wealhtheow gave him
sovran's
daughter: three steeds he added,
slender
and saddle-gay. Since such gift
the gem
gleamed bright on the breast of the queen.
Thus
showed his strain the son of Ecgtheow
as a man
remarked for mighty deeds
and acts
of honor. At ale he slew not
comrade or
kin; nor cruel his mood,
though of
sons of earth his strength was greatest,
a glorious
gift that God had sent
the
splendid leader. Long was he spurned,
and
worthless by Geatish warriors held;
him at
mead the master-of-clans
failed
full oft to favor at all.
Slack and
shiftless the strong men deemed him,
profitless
prince; but payment came,
to the
warrior honored, for all his woes.
Then the
bulwark-of-earls bade bring within,
hardy
chieftain, Hrethel's heirloom
garnished
with gold: no Geat e'er knew
in shape
of a sword a statelier prize.
The brand
he laid in Beowulf's lap;
and of
hides assigned him seven thousand,
with house
and high-seat. They held in common
land alike
by their line of birth,
inheritance,
home: but higher the king
because of
his rule o'er the realm itself.

Now
further it fell with the flight of years,
with
harryings horrid, that Hygelac perished,
and
Heardred, too, by hewing of swords
under the
shield-wall slaughtered lay,
when him
at the van of his victor-folk
sought
hardy heroes, Heatho-Scilfings,
in arms
o'erwhelming Hereric's nephew.
Then
Beowulf came as king this broad
realm to
wield; and he ruled it well
fifty
winters, a wise old prince,
warding
his land, until One began
in the
dark of night, a Dragon, to rage.
In the
grave on the hill a hoard it guarded,
in the
stone-barrow steep. A strait path reached it,
unknown to
mortals. Some man, however,
came by
chance that cave within
to the
heathen hoard. In hand he took
a golden
goblet, nor gave he it back,
stole with
it away, while the watcher slept,
by
thievish wiles: for the warden's wrath
prince and
people must pay betimes!

XXXII

THAT way
he went with no will of his own,
in danger
of life, to the dragon's hoard,
but for
pressure of peril, some prince's thane.
He fled in
fear the fatal scourge,
seeking
shelter, a sinful man,
and
entered in. At the awful sight
tottered
that guest, and terror seized him;
yet the
wretched fugitive rallied anon
from
fright and fear ere he fled away,
and took
the cup from that treasure-hoard.
Of such
besides there was store enough,
heirlooms
old, the earth below,
which some
earl forgotten, in ancient years,
left the
last of his lofty race,
heedfully
there had hidden away,
dearest
treasure. For death of yore
had
hurried all hence; and he alone
left to
live, the last of the clan,
weeping
his friends, yet wished to bide
warding
the treasure, his one delight,
though
brief his respite. The barrow, new-ready,
to strand
and sea-waves stood anear,
hard by
the headland, hidden and closed;
there laid
within it his lordly heirlooms
and heaped
hoard of heavy gold
that
warden of rings. Few words he spake:
"Now
hold thou, earth, since heroes may not,
what earls
have owned! Lo, erst from thee
brave men
brought it! But battle-death seized
and cruel
killing my clansmen all,
robbed
them of life and a liegeman's joys.
None have
I left to lift the sword,
or to
cleanse the carven cup of price,
beaker
bright. My brave are gone.
And the
helmet hard, all haughty with gold,
shall part
from its plating. Polishers sleep
who could
brighten and burnish the battle-mask;
and those
weeds of war that were wont to brave
over
bicker of shields the bite of steel
rust with
their bearer. The ringed mail
fares not
far with famous chieftain,
at side of
hero! No harp's delight,
no
glee-wood's gladness! No good hawk now
flies
through the hall! Nor horses fleet
stamp in
the burgstead! Battle and death
the flower
of my race have reft away."
Mournful
of mood, thus he moaned his woe,
alone, for
them all, and unblithe wept
by day and
by night, till death's fell wave
o'erwhelmed
his heart. His hoard-of-bliss
that old
ill-doer open found,
who,
blazing at twilight the barrows haunteth,
naked
foe-dragon flying by night
folded in
fire: the folk of earth
dread him
sore. 'Tis his doom to seek
hoard in
the graves, and heathen gold
to watch,
many-wintered: nor wins he thereby!
Powerful
this plague-of-the-people thus
held the
house of the hoard in earth
three
hundred winters; till One aroused
wrath in
his breast, to the ruler bearing
that
costly cup, and the king implored
for bond
of peace. So the barrow was plundered,
borne off
was booty. His boon was granted
that
wretched man; and his ruler saw
first time
what was fashioned in far-off days.
When the
dragon awoke, new woe was kindled.
O'er the
stone he snuffed. The stark-heart found
footprint
of foe who so far had gone
in his
hidden craft by the creature's head.
So may the
undoomed easily flee
evils and
exile, if only he gain
the grace
of The Wielder! That warden of gold
o'er the
ground went seeking, greedy to find
the man
who wrought him such wrong in sleep.
Savage and
burning, the barrow he circled
all
without; nor was any there,
none in
the waste.... Yet war he desired,
was eager
for battle. The barrow he entered,
sought the
cup, and discovered soon
that some
one of mortals had searched his treasure,
his lordly
gold. The guardian waited
ill-enduring
till evening came;
boiling
with wrath was the barrow's keeper,
and fain
with flame the foe to pay
for the
dear cup's loss. Now day was fled
as the
worm had wished. By its wall no more
was it
glad to bide, but burning flew
folded in
flame: a fearful beginning
for sons
of the soil; and soon it came,
in the
doom of their lord, to a dreadful end.

XXXIII

THEN the
baleful fiend its fire belched out,
and bright
homes burned. The blaze stood high
all
landsfolk frighting. No living thing
would that
loathly one leave as aloft it flew.
Wide was
the dragon's warring seen,
its
fiendish fury far and near,
as the
grim destroyer those Geatish people
hated and
hounded. To hidden lair,
to its
hoard it hastened at hint of dawn.
Folk of
the land it had lapped in flame,
with bale
and brand. In its barrow it trusted,
its
battling and bulwarks: that boast was vain!

To Beowulf
then the bale was told
quickly
and truly: the king's own home,
of
buildings the best, in brand-waves melted,
that
gift-throne of Geats. To the good old man
sad in
heart, 'twas heaviest sorrow.
The sage
assumed that his sovran God
he had
angered, breaking ancient law,
and
embittered the Lord. His breast within
with black
thoughts welled, as his wont was never.
The folk's
own fastness that fiery dragon
with flame
had destroyed, and the stronghold all
washed by
waves; but the warlike king,
prince of
the Weders, plotted vengeance.
Warriors'-bulwark,
he bade them work
all of
iron the earl's commander
a
war-shield wondrous: well he knew
that
forest-wood against fire were worthless,
linden
could aid not. Atheling brave,
he was
fated to finish this fleeting life,
his days
on earth, and the dragon with him,
though
long it had watched o'er the wealth of thehoard!
Shame he
reckoned it, sharer-of-rings,
to follow
the flyer-afar with a host,
a
broad-flung band; nor the battle feared he,
nor deemed
he dreadful the dragon's warring,
its vigor
and valor: ventures desperate
he had
passed a-plenty, and perils of war,
contest-crash,
since, conqueror proud,
Hrothgar's
hall he had wholly purged,
and in
grapple had killed the kin of Grendel,
loathsome
breed! Not least was that
of
hand-to-hand fights where Hygelac fell,
when the
ruler of Geats in rush of battle,
lord of
his folk, in the Frisian land,
son of
Hrethel, by sword-draughts died,
by brands
down-beaten. Thence Beowulf fled
through
strength of himself and his swimming power,
though
alone, and his arms were laden with thirty
coats of
mail, when he came to the sea!
Nor yet
might Hetwaras haughtily boast
their
craft of contest, who carried against him
shields to
the fight: but few escaped
from
strife with the hero to seek their homes!
Then swam
over ocean Ecgtheow's son
lonely and
sorrowful, seeking his land,
where Hygd
made him offer of hoard and realm,
rings and
royal-seat, reckoning naught
the
strength of her son to save their kingdom
from
hostile hordes, after Hygelac's death.
No sooner
for this could the stricken ones
in any
wise move that atheling's mind
over young
Heardred's head as lord
and ruler
of all the realm to be:
yet the
hero upheld him with helpful words,
aided in
honor, till, older grown,
he wielded
the Weder-Geats. Wandering exiles
sought him
o'er seas, the sons of Ohtere,
who had
spurned the sway of the Scylfings'-helmet,
the
bravest and best that broke the rings,
in Swedish
land, of the sea-kings' line,
haughty
hero. Hence Heardred's end.
For
shelter he gave them, sword-death came,
the
blade's fell blow, to bairn of Hygelac;
but the
son of Ongentheow sought again
house and
home when Heardred fell,
leaving
Beowulf lord of Geats
and
gift-seat's master. A good king he!

XXXIV

THE fall
of his lord he was fain to requite
in after
days; and to Eadgils he proved
friend to
the friendless, and forces sent
over the
sea to the son of Ohtere,
weapons
and warriors: well repaid he
those
care-paths cold when the king he slew.
Thus safe
through struggles the son of Ecgtheow
had passed
a plenty, through perils dire,
with
daring deeds, till this day was come
that
doomed him now with the dragon to strive.
With
comrades eleven the lord of Geats
swollen in
rage went seeking the dragon.
He had
heard whence all the harm arose
and the
killing of clansmen; that cup of price
on the lap
of the lord had been laid by the finder.
In the
throng was this one thirteenth man,
starter of
all the strife and ill,
care-laden
captive; cringing thence
forced and
reluctant, he led them on
till he
came in ken of that cavern-hall,
the barrow
delved near billowy surges,
flood of
ocean. Within 'twas full
of
wire-gold and jewels; a jealous warden,
warrior
trusty, the treasures held,
lurked in
his lair. Not light the task
of
entrance for any of earth-born men!
Sat on the
headland the hero king,
spake
words of hail to his hearth-companions,
gold-friend
of Geats. All gloomy his soul,
wavering,
death-bound. Wyrd full nigh
stood
ready to greet the gray-haired man,
to seize
his soul-hoard, sunder apart
life and
body. Not long would be
the
warrior's spirit enwound with flesh.
Beowulf
spake, the bairn of Ecgtheow:
"Through
store of struggles I strove in youth,
mighty
feuds; I mind them all.
I was
seven years old when the sovran of rings,
friend-of-his-folk,
from my father took me,
had me,
and held me, Hrethel the king,
with food
and fee, faithful in kinship.
Ne'er,
while I lived there, he loathlier found me,
bairn in
the burg, than his birthright sons,
Herebeald
and Haethcyn and Hygelac mine.
For the
eldest of these, by unmeet chance,
by
kinsman's deed, was the death-bed strewn,
when
Haethcyn killed him with horny bow,
his own
dear liege laid low with an arrow,
missed the
mark and his mate shot down,
one
brother the other, with bloody shaft.
A
feeless fight, and a fearful sin,
horror to
Hrethel; yet, hard as it was,
unavenged
must the atheling die!
Too awful
it is for an aged man
to bide
and bear, that his bairn so young
rides on
the gallows. A rime he makes,
sorrow-song
for his son there hanging
as rapture
of ravens; no rescue now
can come
from the old, disabled man!
Still is
he minded, as morning breaks,
of the
heir gone elsewhere;another he hopes not
he will
bide to see his burg within
as ward
for his wealth, now the one has found
doom of
death that the deed incurred.
Forlorn he
looks on the lodge of his son,
wine-hall
waste and wind-swept chambers
reft of
revel. The rider sleepeth,
the hero,
far-hidden; no harp resounds,
in the
courts no wassail, as once was heard.

XXXV

"THEN
he goes to his chamber, a grief-song chants
alone for
his lost. Too large all seems,
homestead
and house. So the helmet-of-Weders
hid in his
heart for Herebeald
waves of
woe. No way could he take
to avenge
on the slayer slaughter so foul;
nor e'en
could he harass that hero at all
with
loathing deed, though he loved him not.
And so for
the sorrow his soul endured,
men's
gladness he gave up and God's light chose.
Lands and
cities he left his sons
(as the
wealthy do) when he went from earth.
There was
strife and struggle 'twixt Swede and Geat
o'er the
width of waters; war arose,
hard
battle-horror, when Hrethel died,
and
Ongentheow's offspring grew
strife-keen,
bold, nor brooked o'er the seas
pact of
peace, but pushed their hosts
to harass
in hatred by Hreosnabeorh.
Men of my
folk for that feud had vengeance,
for woful
war ('tis widely known),
though one
of them bought it with blood of his heart,
a bargain
hard: for Haethcyn proved
fatal that
fray, for the first-of-Geats.
At morn, I
heard, was the murderer killed
by kinsman
for kinsman, with clash of sword,
when
Ongentheow met Eofor there.
Wide split
the war-helm: wan he fell,
hoary
Scylfing; the hand that smote him
of feud
was mindful, nor flinched from the death-blow.
"For
all that he gave me, my gleaming sword
repaid him
at war, such power I wielded,
for lordly
treasure: with land he entrusted me,
homestead
and house. He had no need
from
Swedish realm, or from Spear-Dane folk,
or from
men of the Gifths, to get him help,
some
warrior worse for wage to buy!
Ever I
fought in the front of all,
sole to
the fore; and so shall I fight
while I
bide in life and this blade shall last
that early
and late hath loyal proved
since for
my doughtiness Daeghrefn fell,
slain by
my hand, the Hugas' champion.
Nor fared
he thence to the Frisian king
with the
booty back, and breast-adornments;
but, slain
in struggle, that standard-bearer
fell,
atheling brave. Not with blade was he slain,
but his
bones were broken by brawny gripe,
his
heart-waves stilled. The sword-edge now,
hard blade
and my hand, for the hoard shall strive."
Beowulf
spake, and a battle-vow made
his last
of all: "I have lived through many
wars in my
youth; now once again,
old
folk-defender, feud will I seek,
do doughty
deeds, if the dark destroyer
forth from
his cavern come to fight me!"
Then
hailed he the helmeted heroes all,
for the
last time greeting his liegemen dear,
comrades
of war: "I should carry no weapon,
no sword
to the serpent, if sure I knew
how, with
such enemy, else my vows
I could
gain as I did in Grendel's day.
But fire
in this fight I must fear me now,
and
poisonous breath; so I bring with me
breastplate
and board. From the barrow's keeper
no
footbreadth flee I. One fight shall end
our war by
the wall, as Wyrd allots,
all
mankind's master. My mood is bold
but
forbears to boast o'er this battling-flyer.
Now
abide by the barrow, ye breastplate-mailed,
ye heroes
in harness, which of us twain
better
from battle-rush bear his wounds.
Wait ye
the finish. The fight is not yours,
nor meet
for any but me alone
to measure
might with this monster here
and play
the hero. Hardily I
shall win
that wealth, or war shall seize,
cruel
killing, your king and lord!"
Up stood
then with shield the sturdy champion,
stayed by
the strength of his single manhood,
and hardy
'neath helmet his harness bore
under
cleft of the cliffs: no coward's path!
Soon spied
by the wall that warrior chief,
survivor
of many a victory-field
where
foemen fought with furious clashings,
an arch of
stone; and within, a stream
that broke
from the barrow. The brooklet's wave
was hot
with fire. The hoard that way
he never
could hope unharmed to near,
or endure
those deeps,for the dragon's flame.
Then let
from his breast, for he burst with rage,
the
Weder-Geat prince a word outgo;
stormed
the stark-heart; stern went ringing
and clear
his cry 'neath the cliff-rocks gray.
The
hoard-guard heard a human voice;
his rage
was enkindled. No respite now
for pact
of peace! The poison-breath
of that
foul worm first came forth from the cave,
hot
reek-of-fight: the rocks resounded.
Stout by
the stone-way his shield he raised,
lord of
the Geats, against the loathed-one;
while with
courage keen that coiled foe
came
seeking strife. The sturdy king
had drawn
his sword, not dull of edge,
heirloom
old; and each of the two
felt fear
of his foe, though fierce their mood.
Stoutly
stood with his shield high-raised
the
warrior king, as the worm now coiled
together
amain: the mailed-one waited.
Now, spire
by spire, fast sped and glided
that
blazing serpent. The shield protected,
soul and
body a shorter while
for the
hero-king than his heart desired,
could his
will have wielded the welcome respite
but once
in his life! But Wyrd denied it,
and
victory's honors. His arm he lifted
lord of
the Geats, the grim foe smote
with
atheling's heirloom. Its edge was turned
brown
blade, on the bone, and bit more feebly
than its
noble master had need of then
in his
baleful stress. Then the barrow's keeper
waxed full
wild for that weighty blow,
cast
deadly flames; wide drove and far
those
vicious fires. No victor's glory
the Geats'
lord boasted; his brand had failed,
naked in
battle, as never it should,
excellent
iron! 'Twas no easy path
that
Ecgtheow's honored heir must tread
over the
plain to the place of the foe;
for
against his will he must win a home
elsewhere
far, as must all men, leaving
this
lapsing life! Not long it was
ere those
champions grimly closed again.
The
hoard-guard was heartened; high heaved hisbreast
once more;
and by peril was pressed again,
enfolded
in flames, the folk-commander!
Nor yet
about him his band of comrades,
sons of
athelings, armed stood
with
warlike front: to the woods they bent them,
their
lives to save. But the soul of one
with care
was cumbered. Kinship true
can never
be marred in a noble mind!

XXXVI

WIGLAF his
name was, Weohstan's son,
linden-thane
loved, the lord of Scylfings,
Aelfhere's
kinsman. His king he now saw
with heat
under helmet hard oppressed.
He minded
the prizes his prince had given him,
wealthy
seat of the Waegmunding line,
and
folk-rights that his father owned
Not long
he lingered. The linden yellow,
his
shield, he seized; the old sword he drew:
as
heirloom of Eanmund earth-dwellers knew it,
who was
slain by the sword-edge, son of Ohtere,
friendless
exile, erst in fray
killed by
Weohstan, who won for his kin
brown-bright
helmet, breastplate ringed,
old sword
of Eotens, Onela's gift,
weeds of
war of the warrior-thane,
battle-gear
brave: though a brother's child
had been
felled, the feud was unfelt by Onela.
For
winters this war-gear Weohstan kept,
breastplate
and board, till his bairn had grown
earlship
to earn as the old sire did:
then he
gave him, mid Geats, the gear of battle,
portion
huge, when he passed from life,
fared aged
forth. For the first time now
with his
leader-lord the liegeman young
was bidden
to share the shock of battle.
Neither
softened his soul, nor the sire's bequest
weakened
in war. So the worm found out
when once
in fight the foes had met!
Wiglaf
spake, and his words were sage;
sad in
spirit, he said to his comrades:
"I
remember the time, when mead we took,
what
promise we made to this prince of ours
in the
banquet-hall, to our breaker-of-rings,
for gear
of combat to give him requital,
for
hard-sword and helmet, if hap should bring
stress of
this sort! Himself who chose us
from all
his army to aid him now,
urged us
to glory, and gave these treasures,
because he
counted us keen with the spear
and hardy
'neath helm, though this hero-work
our leader
hoped unhelped and alone
to finish
for us, folk-defender
who hath
got him glory greater than all men
for daring
deeds! Now the day is come
that our
noble master has need of the might
of
warriors stout. Let us stride along
the hero
to help while the heat is about him
glowing
and grim! For God is my witness
I am far
more fain the fire should seize
along with
my lord these limbs of mine!
Unsuiting
it seems our shields to bear
homeward
hence, save here we essay
to fell
the foe and defend the life
of the
Weders' lord. I wot 'twere shame
on the law
of our land if alone the king
out of
Geatish warriors woe endured
and sank
in the struggle! My sword and helmet,
breastplate
and board, for us both shall serve!"
Through
slaughter-reek strode he to succor his chieftain,
his
battle-helm bore, and brief words spake:
"Beowulf
dearest, do all bravely,
as in
youthful days of yore thou vowedst
that while
life should last thou wouldst let no wise
thy glory
droop! Now, great in deeds,
atheling
steadfast, with all thy strength
shield thy
life! I will stand to help thee."
At the
words the worm came once again,
murderous
monster mad with rage,
with
fire-billows flaming, its foes to seek,
the hated
men. In heat-waves burned
that board
to the boss, and the breastplate failed
to shelter
at all the spear-thane young.
Yet
quickly under his kinsman's shield
went eager
the earl, since his own was now
all burned
by the blaze. The bold king again
had mind
of his glory: with might his glaive
was driven
into the dragon's head,
blow
nerved by hate. But Naegling was shivered,
broken in
battle was Beowulf's sword,
old and
gray. 'Twas granted him not
that ever
the edge of iron at all
could help
him at strife: too strong was his hand,
so the
tale is told, and he tried too far
with
strength of stroke all swords he wielded,
though
sturdy their steel: they steaded him nought.
Then for
the third time thought on its feud
that
folk-destroyer, fire-dread dragon,
and rushed
on the hero, where room allowed,
battle-grim,
burning; its bitter teeth
closed on
his neck, and covered him
with waves
of blood from his breast that welled.

XXXVII

'TWAS now,
men say, in his sovran's need
that the
earl made known his noble strain,
craft and
keenness and courage enduring.
Heedless
of harm, though his hand was burned,
hardy-hearted,
he helped his kinsman.
A little
lower the loathsome beast
he smote
with sword; his steel drove in
bright and
burnished; that blaze began
to lose
and lessen. At last the king
wielded
his wits again, war-knife drew,
a biting
blade by his breastplate hanging,
and the
Weders'-helm smote that worm asunder,
felled the
foe, flung forth its life.
So had
they killed it, kinsmen both,
athelings
twain: thus an earl should be
in
danger's day! Of deeds of valor
this
conqueror's-hour of the king was last,
of his
work in the world. The wound began,
which that
dragon-of-earth had erst inflicted,
to swell
and smart; and soon he found
in his
breast was boiling, baleful and deep,
pain of
poison. The prince walked on,
wise in
his thought, to the wall of rock;
then sat,
and stared at the structure of giants,
where arch
of stone and steadfast column
upheld
forever that hall in earth.
Yet here
must the hand of the henchman peerless
lave with
water his winsome lord,
the king
and conqueror covered with blood,
with
struggle spent, and unspan his helmet.
Beowulf
spake in spite of his hurt,
his mortal
wound; full well he knew
his
portion now was past and gone
of earthly
bliss, and all had fled
of his
file of days, and death was near:
"I
would fain bestow on son of mine
this gear
of war, were given me now
that any
heir should after me come
of my
proper blood. This people I ruled
fifty
winters. No folk-king was there,
none at
all, of the neighboring clans
who war
would wage me with 'warriors'-friends'
and threat
me with horrors. At home I bided
what fate
might come, and I cared for mine own;
feuds I
sought not, nor falsely swore
ever on
oath. For all these things,
though
fatally wounded, fain am I!
From the
Ruler-of-Man no wrath shall seize me,
when life
from my frame must flee away,
for
killing of kinsmen! Now quickly go
and gaze
on that hoard 'neath the hoary rock,
Wiglaf
loved, now the worm lies low,
sleeps,
heart-sore, of his spoil bereaved.
And fare
in haste. I would fain behold
the
gorgeous heirlooms, golden store,
have joy
in the jewels and gems, lay down
softlier
for sight of this splendid hoard
my life
and the lordship I long have held."

XXXVIII

I HAVE
heard that swiftly the son of Weohstan
at wish
and word of his wounded king,
war-sick
warrior, woven mail-coat,
battle-sark,
bore 'neath the barrow's roof.
Then the
clansman keen, of conquest proud,
passing
the seat, saw store of jewels
and
glistening gold the ground along;
by the
wall were marvels, and many a vessel
in the den
of the dragon, the dawn-flier old:
unburnished
bowls of bygone men
reft of
richness; rusty helms
of the
olden age; and arm-rings many
wondrously
woven. Such wealth of gold,
booty from
barrow, can burden with pride
each human
wight: let him hide it who will!
His glance
too fell on a gold-wove banner
high o'er
the hoard, of handiwork noblest,
brilliantly
broidered; so bright its gleam,
all the
earth-floor he easily saw
and viewed
all these vessels. No vestige now
was seen
of the serpent: the sword had ta'en him.
Then, I
heard, the hill of its hoard was reft,
old work
of giants, by one alone;
he
burdened his bosom with beakers and plate
at his own
good will, and the ensign took,
brightest
of beacons. The blade of his lord
its
edge was iron had injured deep
one that
guarded the golden hoard
many a
year and its murder-fire
spread hot
round the barrow in horror-billows
at
midnight hour, till it met its doom.
Hasted the
herald, the hoard so spurred him
his track
to retrace; he was troubled by doubt,
high-souled
hero, if haply he'd find
alive,
where he left him, the lord of Weders,
weakening
fast by the wall of the cave.
So he
carried the load. His lord and king
he found
all bleeding, famous chief
at the
lapse of life. The liegeman again
plashed
him with water, till point of word
broke
through the breast-hoard. Beowulf spake,
sage and
sad, as he stared at the gold.
"For
the gold and treasure, to God my thanks,
to the
Wielder-of-Wonders, with words I say,
for what I
behold, to Heaven's Lord,
for the
grace that I give such gifts to my folk
or ever
the day of my death be run!
Now I've
bartered here for booty of treasure
the last
of my life, so look ye well
to the
needs of my land! No longer I tarry.
A barrow
bid ye the battle-fanned raise
for my
ashes. 'Twill shine by the shore of the flood,
to folk of
mine memorial fair
on Hrones
Headland high uplifted,
that
ocean-wanderers oft may hail
Beowulf's
Barrow, as back from far
they drive
their keels o'er the darkling wave."
From his
neck he unclasped the collar of gold,
valorous
king, to his vassal gave it
with
bright-gold helmet, breastplate, and ring,
to the
youthful thane: bade him use them in joy.
"Thou
art end and remnant of all our race
the
Waegmunding name. For Wyrd hath swept them,
all my
line, to the land of doom,
earls in
their glory: I after them go."
This word
was the last which the wise old man
harbored
in heart ere hot death-waves
of
balefire he chose. From his bosom fled
his soul
to seek the saints' reward.

XXXIX

IT was
heavy hap for that hero young
on his
lord beloved to look and find him
lying on
earth with life at end,
sorrowful
sight. But the slayer too,
awful
earth-dragon, empty of breath,
lay felled
in fight, nor, fain of its treasure,
could the
writhing monster rule it more.
For edges
of iron had ended its days,
hard and
battle-sharp, hammers' leaving;
and that
flier-afar had fallen to ground
hushed by
its hurt, its hoard all near,
no longer
lusty aloft to whirl
at
midnight, making its merriment seen,
proud of
its prizes: prone it sank
by the
handiwork of the hero-king.
Forsooth
among folk but few achieve,
though
sturdy and strong, as stories tell me,
and never
so daring in deed of valor,
the
perilous breath of a poison-foe
to brave,
and to rush on the ring-board hall,
whenever
his watch the warden keeps
bold in
the barrow. Beowulf paid
the price
of death for that precious hoard;
and each
of the foes had found the end
of this
fleeting life.
Befell
erelong
that the
laggards in war the wood had left,
trothbreakers,
cowards, ten together,
fearing
before to flourish a spear
in the
sore distress of their sovran lord.
Now in
their shame their shields they carried,
armor of
fight, where the old man lay;
and they
gazed on Wiglaf. Wearied he sat
at his
sovran's shoulder, shieldsman good,
to wake
him with water. Nowise it availed.
Though
well he wished it, in world no more
could he
barrier life for that leader-of-battles
nor baffle
the will of all-wielding God.
Doom of
the Lord was law o'er the deeds
of every
man, as it is to-day.
Grim was
the answer, easy to get,
from the
youth for those that had yielded to fear!
Wiglaf
spake, the son of Weohstan,
mournful
he looked on those men unloved:
"Who
sooth will speak, can say indeed
that the
ruler who gave you golden rings
and the
harness of war in which ye stand
for
he at ale-bench often-times
bestowed
on hall-folk helm and breastplate,
lord to
liegemen, the likeliest gear
which near
of far he could find to give,
threw away
and wasted these weeds of battle,
on men who
failed when the foemen came!
Not at all
could the king of his comrades-in-arms
venture to
vaunt, though the Victory-Wielder,
God, gave
him grace that he got revenge
sole with
his sword in stress and need.
To rescue
his life, 'twas little that I
could
serve him in struggle; yet shift I made
(hopeless
it seemed) to help my kinsman.
Its
strength ever waned, when with weapon I struck
that fatal
foe, and the fire less strongly
flowed
from its head. Too few the heroes
in throe
of contest that thronged to our king!
Now gift
of treasure and girding of sword,
joy of the
house and home-delight
shall fail
your folk; his freehold-land
every
clansman within your kin
shall lose
and leave, when lords highborn
hear afar
of that flight of yours,
a fameless
deed. Yea, death is better
for
liegemen all than a life of shame!"

XL

THAT
battle-toil bade he at burg to announce,
at the
fort on the cliff, where, full of sorrow,
all the
morning earls had sat,
daring
shieldsmen, in doubt of twain:
would they
wail as dead, or welcome home,
their lord
beloved? Little kept back
of the
tidings new, but told them all,
the herald
that up the headland rode.
"Now
the willing-giver to Weder folk
in
death-bed lies; the Lord of Geats
on the
slaughter-bed sleeps by the serpent's deed!
And beside
him is stretched that slayer-of-menwith
knife-wounds sick:
no sword availed
on the
awesome thing in any wise
to work a
wound. There Wiglaf sitteth,
Weohstan's
bairn, by Beowulf's side,
the living
earl by the other dead,
and heavy
of heart a head-watch keeps
o'er
friend and foe. Now our folk may look
for waging
of war when once unhidden
to Frisian
and Frank the fall of the king
is spread
afar. The strife began
when hot
on the Hugas Hygelac fell
and fared
with his fleet to the Frisian land.
Him there
the Hetwaras humbled in war,
plied with
such prowess their power o'erwhelming
that the
bold-in-battle bowed beneath it
and fell
in fight. To his friends no wise
could that
earl give treasure! And ever since
the
Merowings' favor has failed us wholly.
Nor aught
expect I of peace and faith
from
Swedish folk. 'Twas spread afar
how
Ongentheow reft at Ravenswood
Haethcyn
Hrethling of hope and life,
when the
folk of Geats for the first time sought
in wanton
pride the Warlike-Scylfings.
Soon the
sage old sire of Ohtere,
ancient
and awful, gave answering blow;
the
sea-king he slew, and his spouse redeemed,
his good
wife rescued, though robbed of her gold,
mother of
Ohtere and Onela.
Then he
followed his foes, who fled before him
sore beset
and stole their way,
bereft of
a ruler, to Ravenswood.

With his
host he besieged there what swords had left,
the weary
and wounded; woes he threatened
the whole
night through to that hard-pressed throng:
some with
the morrow his sword should kill,
some
should go to the gallows-tree
for
rapture of ravens. But rescue came
with dawn
of day for those desperate men
when they
heard the horn of Hygelac sound,
tones of
his trumpet; the trusty king
had
followed their trail with faithful band.

XLI

"THE
bloody swath of Swedes and Geats
and the
storm of their strife, were seen afar,
how folk
against folk the fight had wakened.
The
ancient king with his atheling band
sought his
citadel, sorrowing much:
Ongentheow
earl went up to his burg.
He had
tested Hygelac's hardihood,
the proud
one's prowess, would prove it no longer,
defied no
more those fighting-wanderers
nor hoped
from the seamen to save his hoard,
his bairn
and his bride: so he bent him again,
old, to
his earth-walls. Yet after him came
with
slaughter for Swedes the standards of Hygelac
o'er
peaceful plains in pride advancing,
till
Hrethelings fought in the fenced town.
Then
Ongentheow with edge of sword,
the
hoary-bearded, was held at bay,
and the
folk-king there was forced to suffer
Eofor's
anger. In ire, at the king
Wulf
Wonreding with weapon struck;
and the
chieftain's blood, for that blow, in streams
flowed
'neath his hair. No fear felt he,
stout old
Scylfing, but straightway repaid
in better
bargain that bitter stroke
and faced
his foe with fell intent.
Nor swift
enough was the son of Wonred
answer to
render the aged chief;
too soon
on his head the helm was cloven;
blood-bedecked
he bowed to earth,
and fell
adown; not doomed was he yet,
and well
he waxed, though the wound was sore.
Then the
hardy Hygelac-thane,
when his
brother fell, with broad brand smote,
giants'
sword crashing through giants'-helm
across the
shield-wall: sank the king,
his folk's
old herdsman, fatally hurt.
There were
many to bind the brother's wounds
and lift
him, fast as fate allowed
his people
to wield the place-of-war.
But Eofor
took from Ongentheow,
earl from
other, the iron-breastplate,
hard sword
hilted, and helmet too,
and the
hoar-chief's harness to Hygelac carried,
who took
the trappings, and truly promised
rich fee
'mid folk, and fulfilled it so.
For that
grim strife gave the Geatish lord,
Hrethel's
offspring, when home he came,
to Eofor
and Wulf a wealth of treasure,
Each of
them had a hundred thousand
in land
and linked rings; nor at less price reckoned
mid-earth
men such mighty deeds!
And to
Eofor he gave his only daughter
in pledge
of grace, the pride of his home.

"Such
is the feud, the foeman's rage,
death-hate
of men: so I deem it sure
that the
Swedish folk will seek us home
for this
fall of their friends, the fighting-Scylfings,
when once
they learn that our warrior leader
lifeless
lies, who land and hoard
ever
defended from all his foes,
furthered
his folk's weal, finished his course
a hardy
hero. Now haste is best,
that we go
to gaze on our Geatish lord,
and bear
the bountiful breaker-of-rings
to the
funeral pyre. No fragments merely
shall burn
with the warrior. Wealth of jewels,
gold
untold and gained in terror,
treasure
at last with his life obtained,
all of
that booty the brands shall take,
fire shall
eat it. No earl must carry
memorial
jewel. No maiden fair
shall
wreathe her neck with noble ring:
nay, sad
in spirit and shorn of her gold,
oft shall
she pass o'er paths of exile
now our
lord all laughter has laid aside,
all mirth
and revel. Many a spear
morning-cold
shall be clasped amain,
lifted
aloft; nor shall lilt of harp
those
warriors wake; but the wan-hued raven,
fain o'er
the fallen, his feast shall praise
and boast
to the eagle how bravely he ate
when he
and the wolf were wasting the slain."

So he told
his sorrowful tidings,
and little
he lied, the loyal man
of word or
of work. The warriors rose;
sad, they
climbed to the Cliff-of-Eagles,
went,
welling with tears, the wonder to view.
Found on
the sand there, stretched at rest,
their
lifeless lord, who had lavished rings
of old
upon them. Ending-day
had dawned
on the doughty-one; death had seized
in woful
slaughter the Weders' king.
There saw
they, besides, the strangest being,
loathsome,
lying their leader near,
prone on
the field. The fiery dragon,
fearful
fiend, with flame was scorched.
Reckoned
by feet, it was fifty measures
in length
as it lay. Aloft erewhile
it had
revelled by night, and anon come back,
seeking
its den; now in death's sure clutch
it had
come to the end of its earth-hall joys.
By it
there stood the stoups and jars;
dishes lay
there, and dear-decked swords
eaten with
rust, as, on earth's lap resting,
a thousand
winters they waited there.
For all
that heritage huge, that gold
of bygone
men, was bound by a spell,
so the
treasure-hall could be touched by none
of human
kind, save that Heaven's King,
God
himself, might give whom he would,
Helper of
Heroes, the hoard to open,
even such
a man as seemed to him meet.

XLII

A PERILOUS
path, it proved, he trodwho
heinously hid,
that hall within,
wealth
under wall! Its watcher had killed
one of a
few, and the feud was avenged
in woful
fashion. Wondrous seems it,
what
manner a man of might and valor
oft ends
his life, when the earl no longer
in
mead-hall may live with loving friends.
So
Beowulf, when that barrow's warden
he sought,
and the struggle; himself knew not
in what
wise he should wend from the world at last.
For
princes potent, who placed the gold,
with a
curse to doomsday covered it deep,
so that
marked with sin the man should be,
hedged
with horrors, in hell-bonds fast,
racked
with plagues, who should rob their hoard.
Yet no
greed for gold, but the grace of heaven,
ever the
king had kept in view.
Wiglaf
spake, the son of Weohstan:
"At
the mandate of one, oft warriors many
sorrow
must suffer; and so must we.
The
people's-shepherd showed not aught
of care
for our counsel, king beloved!
That
guardian of gold he should grapple not, urged we,
but let
him lie where he long had been
in his
earth-hall waiting the end of the world,
the hest
of heaven. This hoard is ours
but
grievously gotten; too grim the fate
which
thither carried our king and lord.
I was
within there, and all I viewed,
the
chambered treasure, when chance allowed me
(and my
path was made in no pleasant wise)
under the
earth-wall. Eager, I seized
such heap
from the hoard as hands could bear
and
hurriedly carried it hither back
to my
liege and lord. Alive was he still,
still
wielding his wits. The wise old man
spake much
in his sorrow, and sent you greetings
and bade
that ye build, when he breathed no more,
on the
place of his balefire a barrow high,
memorial
mighty. Of men was he
worthiest
warrior wide earth o'er
the while
he had joy of his jewels and burg.
Let us set
out in haste now, the second time
to see and
search this store of treasure,
these
wall-hid wonders, the way I show you,
where,
gathered near, ye may gaze your fill
at
broad-gold and rings. Let the bier, soon made,
be all in
order when out we come,
our king
and captain to carry thither
man
beloved where long he shall bide
safe in
the shelter of sovran God."
Then the
bairn of Weohstan bade command,
hardy
chief, to heroes many
that owned
their homesteads, hither to bring
firewood
from far o'er the folk they ruled
for the
famed-one's funeral. " Fire shall devour
and wan
flames feed on the fearless warrior
who oft
stood stout in the iron-shower,
when, sped
from the string, a storm of arrows
shot o'er
the shield-wall: the shaft held firm,
featly
feathered, followed the barb."
And now
the sage young son of Weohstan
seven
chose of the chieftain's thanes,
the best
he found that band within,
and went
with these warriors, one of eight,
under
hostile roof. In hand one bore
a lighted
torch and led the way.
No lots
they cast for keeping the hoard
when once
the warriors saw it in hall,
altogether
without a guardian,
lying
there lost. And little they mourned
when they
had hastily haled it out,
dear-bought
treasure! The dragon they cast,
the worm,
o'er the wall for the wave to take,
and surges
swallowed that shepherd of gems.
Then the
woven gold on a wain was laden
countless
quite! and the king was borne,
hoary
hero, to Hrones-Ness.

XLIII

THEN
fashioned for him the folk of Geats
firm on
the earth a funeral-pile,
and hung
it with helmets and harness of war
and
breastplates bright, as the boon he asked;
and they
laid amid it the mighty chieftain,
heroes
mourning their master dear.
Then on
the hill that hugest of balefires
the
warriors wakened. Wood-smoke rose
black over
blaze, and blent was the roar
of flame
with weeping (the wind was still),
till the
fire had broken the frame of bones,
hot at the
heart. In heavy mood
their
misery moaned they, their master's death.
Wailing
her woe, the widow old,
her hair
upbound, for Beowulf's death
sung in
her sorrow, and said full oft
she
dreaded the doleful days to come,
deaths
enow, and doom of battle,
and
shame. The smoke by the sky was devoured.
The folk
of the Weders fashioned there
on the
headland a barrow broad and high,
by
ocean-farers far descried:
in ten
days' time their toil had raised it,
the
battle-brave's beacon. Round brands of the pyre
a wall
they built, the worthiest ever
that wit
could prompt in their wisest men.
They
placed in the barrow that precious booty,
the rounds
and the rings they had reft erewhile,
hardy
heroes, from hoard in cave,
trusting
the ground with treasure of earls,
gold in
the earth, where ever it lies
useless to
men as of yore it was.
Then about
that barrow the battle-keen rode,
atheling-born,
a band of twelve,
lament to
make, to mourn their king,
chant
their dirge, and their chieftain honor.
They
praised his earlship, his acts of prowess
worthily
witnessed: and well it is
that men
their master-friend mightily laud,
heartily
love, when hence he goes
from life
in the body forlorn away.

Thus made
their mourning the men of Geatland,
for their
hero's passing his hearth-companions:
quoth that
of all the kings of earth,
of men he
was mildest and most beloved,
to his kin
the kindest, keenest for praise.

NOTES

*Not,
of course, Beowulf the Great, hero of the epic.

*Kenning
for king or chieftain of a comitatus: he breaks off gold
from the
spiral rings often worn on the arm and so rewards
his
followers.

*That is,
"The Hart," or "Stag," so called from decorations
in
the gables
that resembled the antlers of a deer. This hall has
been
carefully described in a pamphlet by Heyne. The building was
rectangular,
with opposite doors mainly west and east and a
hearth in
the middle of th single room. A row of pillars down
each side,
at some distance from the walls, made a space which
was raised
a little above the main floor, and was furnished with
two rows
of seats. On one side, usually south, was the
high-seat
midway between the doors. Opposite this, on the other
raised
space, was another seat of honor. At the banquet soon to
be
described, Hrothgar sat in the south or chief high-seat, and
Beowulf
opposite to him. The scene for a flying
was thus
very effectively set. Planks on trestles the
"board"
of later English literature formed the tables just in
front of
the long rows of seats, and were taken away after
banquets,
when the retainers were ready to stretch them- selves
out for
sleep on the benches.

*Fire
was the usual end of these
halls. One
thinks of the splendid scene at the
end of the
Nibelungen, of the Nialssaga, of Saxo's story of
Amlethus,
and many a less famous instance.

*It
is to be supposed that all hearers of this poem knew how
Hrothgar's
hall was burnt, perhaps in the unsuccessful attack
made on
him by his son-in-law Ingeld.

*A
skilled minstrel. The Danes are
heathens,
as one is told presently; but this lay of beginnings is
taken from
Genesis.

*A
disturber of the border, one who
sallies
from his haunt in the fen and roams over the country near
by. This
probably pagan nuisance is now furnished with biblical
credentials
as a fiend or devil in good standing, so that all
Christian
Englishmen might read about him. "Grendel" may mean one
who grinds
and crushes.

*Cain's.

*Giants.

*The
smaller buildings within the main enclosure but separate
from the
hall.

*Grendel.

*"Sorcerers-of-hell."

*
Hrothgar, who is the "Scyldings'-friend".

*That is,
in formal or prescribed phrase.

*Ship.

*That
is, since Beowulf selected his ship and led
his men to
the harbor.

*One
of the auxiliary names of the
Geats.

*Or:
Not thus openly ever came warriors hither; yet...

*Hrothgar.

*Beowulf's
helmet has several boar-images on it;
he is the
"man of war"; and the boar-helmet guards him as typical
representative
of the marching party as a whole. The boar was
sacred to
Freyr, who was the favorite god of the Germanic tribes
about the
North Sea and the Baltic. Rude representations of
warriors
show the boar on the helmet quite as large as the helmet
itself.

*Either
merely paved, the strata via of the Romans, or else
thought of
as a sort of mosaic, an extravagant touch like the
reckless
waste of gold on the walls and roofs of a hall.

*The
nicor, says Bugge, is a hippopotamus; a walrus, says ten
Brink. But
that water-goblin who covers the space from Old Nick
of jest to
the Neckan and Nix of poetry and tale, is all one
needs, and
Nicor is a good name for him.

*His
own people, the Geats.

*That
is, cover it as with a face-cloth. "There will be
no need of
funeral rites."

*Personification
of Battle.

*The
Germanic Vulcan.

*This
mighty power, whom the Christian poet
can still
revere, has here the general force of "Destiny."

*There
is no irrelevance here. Hrothgar sees in Beowulf's
mission a
heritage of duty, a return of the good offices which
the Danish
king rendered to Beowulf's father in time of dire
need.

*Money,
for wergild, or man-price.

*Ecgtheow,
Beowulf's sire.

*"Began
the fight."

*Breca.

*
Murder.

*
Beowulf, the "one."

*That
is, he was a "lost soul," doomed to hell.

*Kenning
for Beowulf.

*"Guarded
the treasure."

*Sc.
Heremod.

*The
singer has sung his lays,
and the
epic resumes its story. The time-relations
are not
altogether good in this long passage which describes the
rejoicings
of "the day after"; but the present shift from the
riders on
the road to the folk at the hall is not very violent,
and is of
a piece with the general style.

*Unferth,
Beowulf's sometime opponent in the flyting.

*There
is no horrible inconsistency here such as the critics
strive and
cry about. In spite of the ruin that Grendel and
Beowulf
had made within the hall, the framework and roof held
firm, and
swift repairs made the interior habitable. Tapestries
were hung
on the walls, and willing hands prepared the banquet.

*From
its formal use in other places, this phrase, to take cup
in hall,
or "on the floor," would seem to mean that Beowulf
stood up
to receive his gifts, drink to the donor, and say
thanks.

*Kenning
for sword.

*Hrothgar.
He is also the
"refuge
of the friends of Ing," below. Ing belongs to myth.

*Horses
are frequently led or ridden into the hall where folk sit
at
banquet: so in Chaucer's Squire's tale, in the ballad of King
Estmere,
and in the romances.

*Man-price,
wergild.

*Beowulf's.

*Hrothgar.

*There
is no need to assume a gap in the Ms. As before
about
Sigemund and Heremod, so now, though at greater
length,
about Finn and his feud, a lay is chanted or recited;
and the
epic poet, counting on his readers' familiarity
with the
story, a fragment of it still exists,
simply
gives the headings.

*The
exact story
to which
this episode refers in summary is not to be determined,
but the
following account of it is reasonable and has good
support
among scholars. Finn, a Frisian chieftain, who
nevertheless
has a "castle" outside the Frisian border, marries
Hildeburh,
a Danish princess; and her brother, Hnaef, with many
other
Danes, pays Finn a visit. Relations between the two peoples
have been
strained before. Something starts the old feud anew;
and the
visitors are attacked in their quarters. Hnaef is killed;
so is a
son of Hildeburh. Many fall on both sides. Peace is
patched
up; a stately funeral is held; and the surviving visitors
become in
a way vassals or liegemen of Finn, going back with him
to Frisia.
So matters rest a while. Hengest is now leader of the
Danes; but
he is set upon revenge for his former lord, Hnaef.
Probably
he is killed in feud; but his clansmen, Guthlaf and
Oslaf,
gather at their home a force of sturdy Danes, come back to
Frisia,
storm Finn's stronghold, kill him, and carry back their
kinswoman
Hildeburh.

*The
"enemies" must be the Frisians.

*Battlefield.
Hengest is the "prince's thane," companion of
Hnaef.
"Folcwald's son" is Finn.

*That
is, Finn would govern
in all
honor the few Danish warriors who were left, provided, of
course,
that none of them tried to renew the quarrel or avenge
Hnaef
their fallen lord. If, again, one of Finn's Frisians began
a quarrel,
he should die by the sword.

*Hnaef.

*The
high
place
chosen for the funeral: see description of Beowulf's
funeral-pile
at the end of the poem.

*Wounds.

*That
is, these two Danes, escaping home, had told the story
of the
attack on Hnaef, the slaying of Hengest, and all the
Danish
woes. Collecting a force, they return to Frisia and kill
Finn in
his home.

*Nephew
to Hrothgar, with whom he
subsequently
quarrels, and elder cousin to the two young sons of
Hrothgar
and Wealhtheow, their natural guardian in the event
of the
king's death. There is something finely feminine in this
speech of
Wealhtheow's, apart from its somewhat irregular and
irrelevant
sequence of topics. Both she and her lord probably
distrust
Hrothulf; but she bids the king to be of good cheer,
and,
turning to the suspect, heaps affectionate assurances on his
probity.
"My own Hrothulf" will surely not forget these favors
and
benefits of the past, but will repay them to the orphaned
boy.

*They
had laid their arms on the benches near where they
slept.

*He
surmises presently where she is.

*The
connection is not
difficult.
The words of mourning, of acute grief, are said; and
according
to Germanic sequence of thought, inexorable here, the
next and
only topic is revenge. But is it possible? Hrothgar
leads up
to his appeal and promise with a skillful and often
effective
description of the horrors which surround the monster's
home and
await the attempt of an avenging foe.

*Hrothgar
is probably meant.

*Meeting
place.

*Kenning
for "sword." Hrunting is bewitched, laid under a
spell of
uselessness, along with all other swords.

*This
brown
of swords,
evidently meaning burnished, bright, continues to be a
favorite
adjective in the popular ballads.

*After
the killing of the monster and Grendel's decapitation.

*Hrothgar.

*The
blade slowly dissolves in blood-stained
drops like
icicles.

*Spear.

*That
is, "whoever has as wide authority as I have and can
remember
so far back so many instances of heroism, may well say,
as I say,
that no better hero ever lived than Beowulf."

*That
is, he is now undefended by conscience from the
temptations
(shafts) of the devil.

*Kenning
for the sun.
This is a
strange role for the raven. He is the warrior's bird of
battle,
exults in slaughter and carnage; his joy here is a
compliment
to the sunrise.

*That
is, he might or might not see Beowulf again. Old as he
was, the
latter chance was likely; but he clung to the former,
hoping to
see his young friend again "and exchange brave words in
the hall."

*With
the speed of the boat.

*Queen
to Hygelac. She is
praised by
contrast with the antitype, Thryth, just as Beowulf
was
praised by contrast with Heremod.

*Kenning
for "wife."

*Beowulf
gives his uncle the king not mere gossip of his
journey,
but a statesmanlike forecast of the outcome of certain
policies
at the Danish court. Talk of interpolation here is
absurd. As
both Beowulf and Hygelac know, and the folk for
whom the
Beowulf was put together also knew, Froda was king of
the
Heathobards (probably the Langobards, once near neighbors of
Angle and
Saxon tribes on the continent), and had fallen
in fight
with the Danes. Hrothgar will set aside this feud by
giving his
daughter as "peace-weaver" and wife to the young king
Ingeld,
son of the slain Froda. But Beowulf, on general
principles
and from his observation of the particular case,
foretells
trouble.

*Play
of shields, battle. A Danish
warrior
cuts down Froda in the fight, and takes his sword and
armor,
leaving them to a son. This son is selected to accompany
his
mistress, the young princess Freawaru, to her new home when
she is
Ingeld's queen. Heedlessly he wears the sword of Froda in
hall. An
old warrior points it out to Ingeld, and eggs him on to
vengeance.
At his instigation the Dane is killed; but the
murderer,
afraid of results, and knowing the land, escapes. So
the old
feud must break out again.

*That
is, their disastrous
battle and
the slaying of their king.

*The
sword.

*Beowulf
returns to
his forecast. Things might well go somewhat as
follows,
he says; sketches a little tragic story; and with this
prophecy
by illustration returns to the tale of his adventure.

*Not
an actual glove, but a sort of bag.

*Hygelac.

*This
is generally assumed to mean hides, though
the text
simply says "seven thousand." A hide in England meant
about 120
acres, though "the size of the acre varied."

*On
the
historical
raid into Frankish territory between 512 and 520 A.D.
The
subsequent course of events, as gathered from hints of this
epic, is
partly told in Scandinavian legend.

*The
chronology
of this
epic, as scholars have worked it out, would make Beowulf
well over
ninety years of age when he fights the dragon. But the
fifty
years of his reign need not be taken as historical fact.

*The
text is here hopelessly illegible, and only the general
drift of
the meaning can be rescued. For one thing, we have the
old myth
of a dragon who guards hidden treasure. But with this
runs the
story of some noble, last of his race, who hides all his
wealth
within this barrow and there chants his farewell to life's
glories.
After his death the dragon takes possession of the hoard
and
watches over it. A condemned or banished man, desperate,
hides in
the barrow, discovers the treasure, and while the dragon
sleeps,
makes off with a golden beaker or the like, and carries
it for
propitiation to his master. The dragon discovers the loss
and exacts
fearful penalty from the people round about.

*Literally
"loan-days," days loaned to man.

*Chattuarii,
a
tribe that
dwelt along the Rhine, and took part in repelling the
raid of
(Hygelac) Chocilaicus.

*Onla,
son of Ongentheow, who
pursues
his two nephews Eanmund and Eadgils to Heardred's court,
where they
have taken refuge after their unsuccessful rebellion.
In the
fighting Heardred is killed.

*That
is, Beowulf supports Eadgils against Onela, who is slain
by Eadgils
in revenge for the "care-paths" of exile into which
Onela
forced him.

*That
is, the king could claim no wergild,
or
man-price, from one son for the killing of the other.

*Usual
euphemism for death.

*Sc.
in the grave.

*Eofor
for Wulf. The immediate provocation for Eofor in
killing
"the hoary Scylfing," Ongentheow, is that the latter has
just
struck Wulf down; but the king, Haethcyn, is also avenged by
the blow.
See the detailed description below.

*Hygelac.

*Shield.

*The
hollow passage.

*That
is, although Eanmund was brother's son to Onela, the
slaying of
the former by Weohstan is not felt as cause of feud,
and is
rewarded by gift of the slain man's weapons.

*Both
Wiglaf and
the sword did their duty. The following is one of
the
classic passages for illustrating the comitatus as the most
conspicuous
Germanic institution, and its underlying sense of
duty,
based partly on the idea of loyalty and partly on the
practical
basis of benefits received and repaid.

*Sc.
"than to
bide
safely here," a common figure of incomplete comparison.

*Wiglaf's
wooden shield.

*Gering
would translate "kinsman
of the
nail," as both are made of iron.

*That
is, swords.

*Where
Beowulf lay.

*What
had been left or made by the hammer; well-forged.

*Trying
to revive him.

*Nothing.

*Dead.

*Death-watch,
guard of honor,
"lyke-wake."

*A
name for the Franks.

*Ongentheow.

*Haethcyn.

*The
line may mean: till Hrethelings stormed on the hedged
shields,
i.e. the shield-wall or hedge of defensive war
Hrethelings,
of course, are Geats.

*Eofor,
brother to Wulf
Wonreding.

*Sc.
"value in" hides and the weight of the gold.

*Not
at all.

*Laid
on it when it was put in the barrow.
This
spell, or in our days the "curse," either prevented
discovery
or brought dire ills on the finder and taker.

*Probably
the fugitive is meant who discovered the hoard. Ten
Brink and
Gering assume that the dragon is meant. "Hid" may well
mean here
"took while in hiding."

*That
is "one and a few
others."
But Beowulf seems to be indicated.

*Ten
Brink points
out the
strongly heathen character of this part of the epic.
Beowulf's
end came, so the old tradition ran, from his unwitting
interference
with spell-bound treasure.

*A
hard saying,
variously
interpreted. In any case, it is the somewhat clumsy
effort of
the Christian poet to tone down the heathenism of his
material
by an edifying observation.

*Nothing
is said of Beowulf's wife in the poem, but Bugge
surmises
that Beowulf finally accepted Hygd's offer of kingdom
and hoard,
and, as was usual, took her into the bargain.